The Scions of Slytherin
by AlexisJames92
Summary: Sequel to Son of Salazar. Harry Potter returns to his original time, only four years have passed. Still recovering from his father's death, Sammael decides to head to the one place he's ever called home: Hogwarts. Eventual Snarry. Previously called "The Walking Horcrux"
1. Chapter 1

**HEY! Here is the (not very) long anticipated Snarry sequel for Son of Salazar!**

 **I thank the person who gave suggestions for better titles, I used your opinion for the Harrymort sequel, but not for this one…Sorry, I guess…? Geez, I reading through my reviews and NOBODY likes my title names….BLEEEH! So I found my weak spot!...*sigh* alright, if any of you have better title names go ahead and tell me. If I find one I like I'll use it instead! Happy now? *whispers* all yall are mean…..**

 **Looking forward to your reviews! (though updates might be a tad slower both because I'm doing two stories at once, as well as the fact that end of term finals are coming up and I've gots to study…)**

 **Also, for those who asked, Harry's Magical Association will be Grey leaning towards Light. Furthermore, everything in Artemis' life is moved back a year: so he would have kidnapped Holly when he was ten. Though he won't show up for a few chapters yet…**

 **One last thing: This IS a sequel for the people who randomly picked this up. So if you haven't already, I suggest reading through my other story "The Son of Salazar" so that you can get a good idea of what's going on. Don't worry, it's not that long, only 10 chapters. Thanks to all of you who followed the story so far, and HELLO to the new peoples!**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor,**

 **-James**

One moment, it had been a dismal, dark winter night. The next it was summer. The sun was shining hotly through the window. Sammael was lying flat on his back, his head resting on thick carpet. He was confused for several moments as he looked around. Everything looked so strange. Artificial. Plastic.

Plastic? The word was familiar, easily brought up to the forefront of his mind. And yet, he couldn't quite remember what it meant. Plastic…P…l…a…s…t…i…c…Then he sat up, running his fingers through his hair, which was tied back in a long tail. It took him several moments before he remembered where he was.

A shiver ran up his spine. He wanted to slap himself, for still being afraid after all these years…and yet, he was. His eyes flicked over, almost involuntarily, to a dingy little cupboard under the stairs. He wondered if his old blanket was still there, and the books he'd hidden under the floor boards. Sammael clutched the amulet the was hung around his neck, the Time Turner, Auntie Rowena had decided to call it. Sammael got to his feet. Besnik shifted under his robes. " ** _That was…uncomfortable. I ask that we never do that again._** "

" ** _I concur_** " said Kai from where he was sitting on the back of a plush couch. Sammael rolled his eyes at them as he softly tread across the carpet towards the cupboard. Petunia was in the kitchen, he realized as his brain caught up with the fact that a radio was playing, loudly, on the classical station. The sound of running water and the splashing of hands washing dishes could also be heard. The smell of beef stew wafted through the house. Besnik, who was fond of human food, stuck his tongue out, tasting the air.

" ** _I'm hungry_** " he whined.

" ** _We can get food later_** ," Sammael softly hissed as Kai swooped across the room, alighting on the stair's handrail. Sammael paused in front of the cupboard, then he knelt. He hadn't before realized just how small his old 'room' was. Not for the first time, he felt a rush of extreme gratitude towards Salazar, his Papa, and then a keen sense of loss. Kai and Besnik were quietly watching him as he opened the door to the cupboard. The first think that his him was the smell. It obviously hadn't been cleaned in years. It certainly _smelled_ like someone used to live in it, Sammael thought embarrassedly. Sammael saw his old blanket, blue and ratty, laid neatly folded in a corner; it was exactly where he had left it. Sammael shrunk it and stuck it in his pocket, figuring he'd clean it later. That was all he'd really wanted; it was a connection to his past from before the Dursley's.

A thud from upstairs jerked Sammael into action, quietly closing the cupboard door. Dudley was probably upstairs. This time of day, Vernon would be at work. Making a decision, Sammael silently, but quickly, left the house, closed the door, then knocked.

***1047***

Petunia Dursley was washing the dishes she'd used to make lunch when there was a solid knock on the front door. Frowning, she dried her hands on her apron after setting down a large mixing bowl she had just finished washing. Then she bustled to the front door, thinking that it might be one of the neighbors. She almost had a heart attack when she saw who it was.

It was one of _them_. One of those freaks that had converted her sister to their abnormal ways. He was definitely one of those loonies, with his long braided hair and flowing dark green robes. A weird bird sat perched on his head, and a huge—Petunia blanched at this point—a huge snake sat coiled around his shoulders, it's long body trailing down _into the man's clothing_. Petunia shuddered at the thought of the slimy thing touching her skin. Why, it must have been at least fifteen feet long, if not, longer! A thick, brown scar ran across his face in a diagonal line from his left temple down to the right corner of his mouth. His skin was fair, his eyes a familiar eerie green.

"Who are you?" she snapped.

"An old acquaintance who would like to be admitted inside," said the man with a polite tone, but expressionless face. As loathe as Petunia was to let this freak in her home, she also feared what the neighbors would think. But then again, Marge and her husband were here. What to do, she fretted, what to do? As she was thinking, she must have absently stepped aside, because all of a sudden, she realized that the man had simply waltzed right in!

"Who are you?" she repeated, a tad angrier this time.

The man turned to look at her. "I am here, looking for a boy. I don't know his age, nor his name. However, I _do_ know that he is like me—and you know what I am—his eyes are green his hair, black. Where is he?" Petunia grew nervous.

"I don't know," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "He ran away. Years ago."

"How many years ago?"

This gave Petunia pause. This stranger wasn't angry that she'd lost her nephew? "Four," she said. "Four years ago. He should be around nine by now."

"What was his name?"

This made Petunia even more confused. He didn't know the boy's name? The letter had said that he'd been well known in _his world_. "Harry James Potter" she said numbly.

***1047***

Sammael vividly recalled his old, reoccurring dream, filled with screams, and the color green, and pain. That woman screaming, she must have been his mother. And she was talking about _him_. His name was, _was_ , Harry James Potter. Sammael cocked his head to the side. What a supremely ordinary, **boring** name. "Harry Potter" Sammael tried out on his tongue, then grimaced, once again thanking his father, this time for his taste in names.

"I understand," Sammael said. "He must have been a troublesome boy, from what I've heard." And then Sammael left. Simply left. He walked out of the house and down the street. Kai flew beside him, obviously confused. Besnik wasn't sure what was going on either, but he was too hungry to really care. He just kept moaning about getting something to eat. Sammael walked behind a house that seemed empty, then apparated, wondering if visualization would be enough, wondering if Diagon Ally was still there after all these years. The thought of spliching himself came a moment too late as he was already half way gone.

With a crack, Sammael found himself in another, dirtier, ally. He turned around, on one side was a brick wall. On the other: a pub. Sammael shrugged as he entered the small, dark, dingy building. There weren't many people there, the few that were sat at the low tables, nursing some kind of bottled drink, speaking in low tones. A man behind the bar leaned on the counter, muttered to himself as he swiped at the wood with a cloth.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Sammael said respectfully as he approached. "I haven't been in these parts before, and I wonder if you could tell me where Diagon Ally is?" The man looked up at him in surprise. Sammael's robes were made of the finest materials, his whole aura screamed _wealth_! After all, he had a bloody _phoenix_ perched on his head. The man straightened and held out a hand, which Sammael readily shook, much to the bartender's delight.

"The name's Tom," Tom said with a toothy smile. "Diagon Ally's just right outside, I can show ya how to get in if you like? And if you need a place to stay, I've got plen'y of room available!" Sammael considered this for a moment.

"I'll take a room," Sammael decided, drawing out his money bag. "And then if you can wait a moment, I'd appreciate it if you guide me to the Ally." Tom nodded several times.

"How many beds will you need?"

"Just one, a good medium size room is all I'll need; I'll only be sleeping here."

Tom continued to bob his head as he drew a large brass key out of his pocket and set it on the counter. Then he drew out a scroll of parchment and a quill and inkwell. "Just sign your name here," Tom pointed at a line. "And that'll be 12 sickles a night. How long will you be staying?" Tom asked.

"Depends," Sammael said thoughtfully. "I'll be buying a house, shortly. I supposed three nights for now, and I'll extend it later should I need to." He pulled out the necessary coinage, all the while mentally gasping in pain at the horrible inflation that had gone about in the last nine hundred years. Back in his old time, three nights at a third rate place like this would have cost _maybe_ two sickles a night. Some even as low as five knuts! Nevertheless, Sammael let none of his displeasure show as he handed over the money.

He then picked up his quill, Tom stopped him saying "You'll need your full name, else it won't stay on the parchment." Sammael frowned, enchanted parchment for something as trivial as renting a room? Then he shrugged.

"Very well," he said. He _had_ been going to use a false name, so as to not attract attention. After all, the line of Slytherin MUST have lasted through the centuries. But Sammael simply wrote down his full name, feeling a small surge of affection arise inside him at the sight of the familiar words that had been gifted to him so long ago.

He handed the paper back and was about to take the room key when Tom grasped the sleeve of his robes. "You're kidding?" he asked in disbelief. Sammael frowned. "You're not kidding?" Tom seemed to be torn between awe and fear as he released Sammael as though he'd been burned. "Your name, your _real name_ , is" Tom looked down at the parchment and slowly, carefully read his full name. "Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin"

"Yes" Sammael said. "Is that a problem?"

Tom paled. "N-No! My Lord, none at all!" he practically yelped. "May I show you to your room?" he asked, his voice considerably higher than it had been before. Sammael gave a graceful nod, and followed the trembling bartender up a low flight of stairs. So, he thought to himself, the Slytherin line _has_ survived. Sammael smiled, and apparently it was feared.

***1047***

Three hours later found him wandering about Diagon Ally on his own. Kai was flying around, stretching his wings and hunting for mice or small birds. Besnik, Sammael had apparated to the edge of the Dark Forest, just beyond the warding line of Hogwarts, so that Besnik would be able to find a suitable sized deer for his meal. Sammael had lingered there, long after Besnik had slithered away, just looking at Hogwarts with a strange sense of longing. It hadn't changed at all, he thought with a sweet sort of pain, not at all in 900 years.

It took a great deal of self-control to apparate back to Diagon Ally.

Now he was looking for an apothecary that would suit him. So far, he'd only found a few of the ingredients he was needing in the large apothecary that sat on the main street. So Sammael instead headed down into Knockturn Ally. It was as dark and dreary as ever, to suit the vampires that made a living there.

Sammael had brought everything he'd owned with him: He'd basically shrunk his entire room down and stuffed it in his trunk, he'd brought all of his clothes, he'd even brought the broom Uncle God had enchanted for him when he was five. However, he'd put all of his inheritance and savings, save for a single bag of Galleons, into a sealed vault in Gringotts. It was unique, in that it could never be ceased, no matter how long it wasn't accessed, and no one but Sammael himself (not even relatives) could get into it. Sammael briefly wondered how much was in his vault by now.

The only thing he _hadn't_ brought with him, had been potion ingredients, as he wasn't sure how time travel would affect them. You always had to be careful not to expose ingredients to magic, because the magic would mess with what you were trying to make in the first place, should you attempt to use the tainted ingredients in a potion or ritual.

And so Sammael hunted for an apothecary here in the dirtiest, ugliest Ally in London. "Aha…" he muttered softly to himself as he spied one such establishment. He swept in through the squeaky door. A man with long, blonde hair stood bartering with the owner.

"No more than 50 galleons," the blonde said and Sammael tried not to fall over. FIFTY GALLEONS? What in Merlin's name costs 50 galleons? The owner, however, seemed to think that this wasn't enough.

"60," said the old witch.

"I believe I said, no more than 50," the man said. "If you have _hearing problems_ , I can always take my business elsewhere." The witch scowled, handing over a package in exchange for the money. "Good day, madam," said the man with a sneer. The sneer melted away when he saw Sammael standing there with a contemplative expression on his face. After a moment's hesitation, the man gave a small, graceful bow, which Sammael returned before extending a hand.

"Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin" he said in greeting, wanting to see the man's reaction at his full name. "May I have the pleasure of knowing to whom it is I speak?" The man's pale face grew even whiter, which Sammael found slightly humorous. But the other man quickly regained his bearings and managed a small smile.

"Lucius Malfoy," said the man "Head of the House of Malfoy, at your service. May I ask if you are descended from the legendary Salazar Slytherin? Your name is the exact same as his eldest, and most favored, son. You are from that line, perhaps?"

Sammael briefly remembered his father's last words to him "… ** _if I am remembered for nothing more than being your father, I'd be content."_** Sammael swallowed thickly 'most favored son of Salazar', that's what they thought of him? He smiled. "I am" he simply said. "Though I hadn't known my line was so distinguished before arriving to his area."

"And where _are_ you from?" Lucius asked.

"That, Lord Malfoy," Sammael said with a coy smirk that made the man blush _ever so slightly_ "is a secret." With a final bow, Sammael swept past, ignoring Lucius' eyes that were trained on his back, instead quietly listing his needed ingredients to the witch behind the counter. So, the House of Slytherin was so renown that even the Malfoy's—who, if Sammael was remembering correctly, was a House as old as the Gryffindor's from France—respected them, he wondered who the current Head of House was…


	2. Chapter 2

**For those of you who are wondering, no you don't need to have read the Artemis Fowl series to understand what is going on. Just treat Artemis like an OC, since his back story is going to be slightly different from what is in the books, and explained thoroughly in my story. Thank you for your reviews**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

 **-James**

The name Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin spread like wild fire among the remnants of the "dark" families. Rumors flew just as fast. About how he was Lord Voldemort in a new body. About how he was here to lead the dark into a grand new era. How he would defeat the light and bring equality to all creatures. It hadn't even been a week since Sammael's arrival at the Leaky Cauldron that a certain potion's professor first heard that name.

Severus had been tutoring his nine-year-old godson, Draco Malfoy, who was blithering on and on about "my father" as he cut up his frog spleens. He was only half listening to a child, and so he was surprised when the boy said "…met a man at an apothecary. Weird name too, but I remember his last name was Slytherin…"

Severus had been so surprised, he almost dropped the vial of tortoise blood he was holding. "Slytherin, you say?" he asked cautiously. Draco nodded as he started stirring his potion. "Father said he was very handsome, though he was whispering it to Uncle Rabastan, so that Mother wouldn't hear. Though he had an 'unfortunate scar' across his face, Father said."

Severus frowned, he hadn't heard of a man like this. "Did you hear anything else, Draco?" The boy smiled at him, obviously pleased that he finally had his godfather's full attention. He bobbed his head as he plopped in little piece of the frog spleen one at a time.

"Father said that his aura—what ever that is—was very powerful, but warm. So he wasn't a Dark wizard. But he also said that the feel was too rough to be Light either." Severus' eyebrows rose into his hair line. A Grey wizard? Those were rare, and extremely powerful when they popped up. The potential to fully master both sides of the magical spectrum. Add to that the man was a Slytherin, and he could make for one powerful ally, or one ruthless enemy. "He also said that he had his hair in a braid, and that he was obviously very rich, because his robes had silver threads."

Severus smiled indulgently at his godson as Draco suddenly paled and put his little hands over his mouth. "Father told me not to tell anyone" he squeaked out quickly before replacing his hands.

"He probably only said that to ensure your mother did find out that he found a man attractive," Severus explained, amused. "Rest assured, the secret is safe with me." Draco grinned at him before gasping and starting on about some Quidditch match his father had taken him to last week.

***1047***

"I hear you met a rather, _dashing_ , individual last time you ventured to Diagon Alley," Severus teased his friend lightly as they sat down in Lucius' private study for tea. To Severus' surprise, the man actually blushed, just slightly. Lucius tried to hide it with his tea cup, but Severus saw it anyway, and smirked. Lucius scowled at him.

"I'm going to skin that brat," he said halfheartedly.

"Your own heir?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow. "Hardly."

Lucius sighed, setting his cup down. "He was most bizzare, Severus," Lucius said, the light pink once again staining his cheeks. "His aura, too violent to be light, but to warm and… _caring_ to be Dark."

"Caring?"

"Yes, Severus. It's as good a description as I can come up with. You'd have to be in its presence to know what I'm talking about. The exact opposite of out Lord's, and yet so similar." Severus took a sip, calmly, but inwardly his thoughts were racing. "His eyes were the strangest though."

"Were they like our Lord's as well?" Severus asked.

Lucius shook his head. "They were alight with power, yes. But Green. As green as the killing curse." Briefly, Severus thought back to someone else he once knew, with eyes like that. "There was so much power hidden behind them, it was impossible to know if he was using Legilimency on me, or if he was simply looking at my face."

"Of course," Severus interjected "you never were very accomplished in the mind arts." Lucius scowled, though there was humor in his eyes. "Was there anything else that stood out? Or were you to focused on his pretty face?"

Lucius' frown deepened briefly, before clearing. "Actually, he had a strange scar. Though it seemed fairly new. And don't you think it odd that a man from a line as prestigious as Slytherin has been hitherto unheard of? He said he wasn't from this area."

"Where then?" asked Severus. "And, yes it is rather odd."

"He didn't say," Lucius said. "I plan on inviting him to the Summer Ball."

"Hoping for a dance?" Severus asked, not a trace of a smile on his face. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I'm _hoping_ for information." Lucius took a sip of his tea. "Maybe sway him to our side before the likes of Dumbledore and his Order get to him. I can't only hope the old fool hasn't caught wind of Lord Slytherin's sudden appearance."

"One can only hope," Severus echoed, even as he mentally planned to inform Dumbledore of exactly that as soon as he returned to Hogwarts. "I wonder what Lord Slytherin have been occupying himself with. Any news?"

Lucius shook his head. "He was seen buying various things, like furniture, house elves and robes, from the Alley. He's been in and out of Gringotts. Word at the Ministry says that he filled out the paperwork to officiate his Lordship as well as obtaining a building permit for a Manor in Scotland. But all that is to be expected. Other than that, nothing. As for family, I don't know if he has siblings, children, wife—"

"Husband" Severus filled in smoothly, taking another sip. Lucius threw a scone at him.

***1047***

Sammael had, thus far, been using the money in his personal vault. Today, he decided, was time to look in Salazar's. He'd already bought a good chunk of land—beautiful, green, well-watered and, most importantly, close to Hogwarts—and he'd set about a team on construction workers at building his new manor house. It was about halfway completed. Though he'd nearly keeled over and died when told the approximate price for a fully furnished manor house would be around 3.5 million galleons.

The goblins greeted him cordially as he stepped in through the doors. Whispers erupted all around them, but Sammael was accustomed to them (what with being Salazar's heir, even back when Hogwarts was first founded). He was lead through to a private room, where an elderly goblin with long, curled talons and wispy white hair sat behind a desk. Sammael bowed low to him, and saluted. He stayed in his bow until the goblin saluted him back with a deep nod of the head. The goblin, who had been introduced as Silvertooth last time he had visited, then gestured for Sammael to take a seat.

"What may I do for Master Wizard this day?" asked Silvertooth in a tone of deep respect. The goblins had always harbored a fond view of the Slytherin Line. Even the late Dark Lord, who Sammael had been hearing a lot about lately, had treated them with respect that the normal wizards denied them.

"I would like access to my father's vaults," Sammael said quietly. Silvertooth nodded once, then sharply snapped his fingers. Another goblin swept into the room with a ceremonial knife, bowl, and sheet of parchment, along with a decorative quill. Already knowing what to do, having done it once before to access his own personal vault, took the knife and cut a deep slit in his palm, allowing the blood to drip into the bowl. When there was enough, Sammael wandlessly healed it. He then picked up the quill and dipped it into his blood, before quickly writing down his name on the contract that stated he was, in fact, who he said he was.

The blood glowed golden, then the scroll rolled up on its own. Silvertooth handed Sammael a key, and wished him good day, before calling up another goblin, Hookjaw, to show him to his vault.

***1047***

During the wild and twisty ride down to the deepest level of the bank, Sammael pondered over everything he had learned. Harry Potter—aka, him—had somehow managed to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort—a strange name told to him by the goblins; no one else would say it—when he was an infant. According to the history books Sammael had read, he'd been dropped off to be raised by his loving family (Sammael had fallen over laughing when he'd read this). According to the book, everyone was looking forward to the school year of 2005, when Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts.

"Harry Potter", would be turning ten this year, Sammael mused. He wondered what would happen if the wizarding world found out that their precious "Savior" had vanished. Sammael already knew that no one could ever find out that he, Sammael Slytherin, was actually Harry Potter. What to do…

The cart finally stopped, and the goblin opened the door for him with, yet another, bow. Sammael smiled and thanked him. Hookjaw unlocked the vault, and opened it with a flourish. Sammael had no eyes for the huge mound of gold, jewels and various treasure that filled the room. His eyes immediately found the shelf in the back, filled with scrolls and worn leather journals. He began to stride over, that is, until he tripped over a diamond tiara. His arms pin wheeled as he fell towards the ground. His hands found cloth, a tapestry hanging on the wall, only that too came down with him. Dust flew up, all around, choking and blinding him. Sammael sat up, more embarrassed than hurt, coughing and waving away the cloud of dust, shoving the tapestry off of him.

And that's when he saw what it was. The tapestry bore the names of _all_ of Salazar Slytherin's Line. Directly under Salazar were four lines. Sammael's full name, Selwyn's full name, Synnove's and Salazar II's. Birth and death dates followed the names of Sammael's three siblings. Under his brothers' dates were lines, connecting to more names and dates. On and on the tree branched out, and no wonder the tapestry was so huge. Sammael knew it had to be enchanted, because the dates lasted well into the 20th century.

He shifted the tapestry until he found the bottom of Salazar II's line. The name Tom Marvolo Riddle stuck out. Sammael found this odd, since he'd been expecting the name "Voldemort". Sammael mentally shrugged, deciding that 'Tom' must have changed his name at some point, without going through the appropriate magical procedure. Then he realized that there was no death date beneath the name. Only a birth date. Sammael wasn't sure whether to feel happy that another member of his line was alive, or worried, seeing as how that member was also a notorious dark Lord. Not to mention that, should Tom ever find out about Sammael's birth identity, he'd probably want to kill him.

Then, Sammael shifted the tapestry again, looking at the bottom of Selwyn's line. He beamed, because there were two more heirs living. Siblings by the looks of it, though the parents were both deceased. Sammael decided then and there that he would adopt them, if they hadn't been already. He just had to find them.

He rose and quickly shrunk the journals and scrolls from the shelf, as well as the tapestry, putting them all into his pockets. He needed to hurry up and finish building on his house, so that his new 'cousins' would have a proper place to stay.

***1047***

Dumbledore frowned as he heard his spy relay the news he'd learned: A new Slytherin Lord had surfaced. From what Severus was saying, the man most likely was _not_ a Dark Lord. But, one could never be too careful. Dumbledore needed to meet this man, and soon, to determine where he stood with the issue of Muggles, pureblood superiority, and Dark Magic. With a grandfatherly smile and a word of thanks, Dumbledore dismissed Severus from his office before pulling out quill and parchment.

When he had finished penning his letter, he called to Fawkes and tied it to his leg. He had every faith in his familiar, to find this Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin.

***1047***

The Dursley's were just sitting down for the last meal of the day. The table was fairly groaning at the massive weight of the food. A roast and a turkey, as well as all the trimmings, jugs of milk, tea and bottles of wine sat on the table. Mr. Dursley sat at the head with his son on his right and his wife on his left. His sister Marge and her husband Drew were also seated with them. They dug right in, spooning huge portions onto their plates.

They spoke about trivial things: the neighbor's new car, the other neighbor's affair, the lesbian couple who moved in down the street, Vernon's work, Dudley's school. They were having an enjoyable time, complaining and snubbing just about everything under the sun, when the door flew open.

Vernon and Drew were immediately on their feet as a man appeared in the doorway of the dining room. Said man smiled softly and leaned against the doorframe. He wore strange, but elegant robes. In his right hand he twirled a strange stick around in his fingers. "Who are you?" he asked "And what do you want?"

Drew took one look at him, his robes and his long hair. "Looks like a pouf to me" he said with a cackle and a knee slap.

The man frowned and stood up straight. Out of his pocket, he pulled out a... large bowl. Petunia frowned, wondering how he fit something that big into his pockets, and then her eyes widened as she recognized the 'bowl' as a potion cauldron. Vernon tried to walk closer, but found he couldn't move. Neither could anyone else. They watched helplessly, shouting soundlessly (they couldn't talk either), as the strange man started emptying various vials of liquid into the cauldron. Then he took out a knife. If Petunia could have, she would have screamed. But the man instead cut himself, watching dully as the crimson blood flowed steadily into the cauldron. Then the blood flow simply stopped, and she dimly noticed that there wasn't even a scratch on the man's hand.

Then, the man pointed his wand at Drew. " _Avada Kadavra_ " A flash of green exploded out of his wand, and Drew fell to the floor. He then turned to the rest of them. " _Obliviate"_.

Everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry James Potter was your average boy. He woke up every morning in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive. His Aunt would be pounding on his door, telling him to wake up and get ready to serve the family breakfast. He would jump out of bed and don his clothes before silently running down into the kitchen. Casting a quick repulsion spell on the kitchen while he prepared to cut up fruit for a morning fruit salad, Harry would levitate dishes out of the cabinets and onto the small table that usually seated three but today would hold four.

He'd munch on the pieces of melon, apple and grape as he worked, cutting up the fruit and tossing them into the large serving bowl. Then he'd get started on making, buttering and spreading just the right amount of jam on the toast while simultaneously making coffee and pouring juice, as well as frying up some omelets.

Within fifteen minutes, breakfast was on the table, and Harry was finishing up his own omelet before scampering back up the stairs to finish reading a funny Muggle book he had started. _Eragon_ , he'd always loved the thought of training dragons. Riding one, though, was a thrilling idea. The book had been a birthday present of sorts to himself, from himself.

As he opened up his book, he would hear Dudley yawn and clomp noisily down the stairs while muttering that 'mummy' had woken him up too early. As the family ate, Harry delved into the fantasy world he held in his hands. It was his tenth birthday, and his family seemed intent on ignoring him.

Not that he minded.

Absently, his mind prodded what his other half was doing at the moment

***1047***

Sammael absently prodded back at the inquiring mind, wondering if it was weird to wish yourself 'good morning'. He'd already finished eating for the day, and was getting ready to go meet his newly discovered heirs. After a bit of digging, he'd found that they lived somewhere called 'Iowa' in 'America'.

Sammael supposed this land was discovered sometime within the 900 gap that he didn't exist. Apparently, 'America' had a rather large wizarding population that dated way back to the original founding of the land. Though he'd been disgusted to learn that Mundanes had attempted to burn wizards there as well. He was slightly amused and disturbed to find that they hadn't managed to kill a single wizard or witch; only other Mundanes.

Sammael had considered simply apparating, but seeing as how he hadn't ever been to this 'America' he thought it would be safer to flame over with Kai. As he thought of his friend, his mind drifted to the other phoenix who had visited earlier that week. 'Fawkes', he believed the phoenix' name was. He was familiar to Dumbledore, the man who had entrusted Sammael to the Dursley's back when he had only been called 'Harry'. Attached to Fawkes was a letter with an official looking stamp that Sammael recognized all too well; The Hogwarts seal.

He only skimmed through the letter, which basically informed Sammael of all the offices and awards that Dumbledore had to his name, blatantly questioned Sammael's moral character, then invited him to tea. Sammael had simply thrown the letter out, then _obliviated_ Fawkes before sending him back to his master, empty taloned.

" ** _Besnik!_** " Sammael called out, his voice echoing eerily in his newly completed manor. The basilisk answered back as he slid across the tiled floor. The red plume on his head was sticking straight up, showing that he had just eaten and was uncomfortably full. " ** _Would you like to join me to greet my new heirs?_** " Besnik seemed to think about this.

" ** _I'm curious to see if the gift has been retained after all these years_** ," the basilisk told him. Sammael shrunk the serpent down—Besnik was nearing 20 ft in length, and was far too heavy for him to carry around like a hatchling—so that he was only five feet long. He scooped up Besnik while mentally summoning Kai. As Besnik made himself comfortable around Sammael's neck, Kai appeared in a burst of flame.

" ** _Do you know where 'America' is_**?" Sammael asked his friend cheerfully.

Kai cocked his head, amused. " ** _No_** ," he said. " ** _But I can take you there_**."

***1047***

Severus had been busy brewing various potions for the Hospital Wing when he was summoned by the headmaster, via the old fool's phoenix patronus. He sighed, casting a stasis charm on his cauldron, knowing that it wouldn't be enough to keep the delicate potion from spoiling, and left his potion lab grumbling irritably.

"Gummy bears," Severus Snape snapped at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. It jumped out of the way. Severus didn't bother knocking, he just walked in. After all, the wards would have alerted Dumbledore to his presence, so it wasn't like he'd really be barging in.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said, as though he hadn't just called the Potion's Master up himself. "Please, have a seat. Lemon Drop?" Severus didn't deem that question worthy of an answer as he sat down. "Very well," Dumbledore said as he popped one of those yellow atrocities into his mouth. "Have you heard any more of this Lord Slytherin? I've grown concerned about him, ever since poor Fawkes came back from delivering my letter, more confused than I'd ever seen him."

"No, Headmaster," Severus drawled. "If I had, I would have told you. But my main source of information comes from Lucius Malfoy, and I haven't spoken with him in nearly a week, as you well know."

Dumbledore only nodded sagely before saying. "There was an attack at Harry Potter's safe house." Severus leapt from his chair.

"And the boy?" he demanded. No, he couldn't fail Lily again. Severus silently cursed himself for never checking up on the Potter whelp. If the brat had died, than he would have lost the last thing that was truly _Lily_ left on this earth.

"Alive" answered the Headmaster, and Severus felt his breathing relax back to normal. "However, it has been confirmed that a dark ritual was used there, as well as the Killing Curse. Yet, I peeked in on young Harry myself, and he seemed perfectly happy and healthy, as were all of his Muggle relatives. There was no sign of any one having died recently—" Severus cut him off.

"Muggle relatives?" Severus' voice was dangerously low as he remembered Petunia Evans…the magic hating loon. "You left him with his Aunt?"

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled, seemingly happy that they were both on the same page. Severus felt his left eye begin to tick in annoyance. "Though I was surprised to find that Miss Figg had died of a heart attack, about six years ago."

"You left him…with Petunia…without any inkling of his heritage…or a watch to ensure his continued safety?"

"Now when you say it like that…" Dumbledore simply shrugged. "Believe me, the boy is fine. When I peeked into the house, he was happily reading some fantasy book about dragons on his bed, munching on some cookies. I'm sure he's perfectly happy with his situation."

But Severus wouldn't believe a word the old man said, not until he saw with his own eyes. He had no love for the Potter brat, no doubt he was exactly like his arrogant father, but he owed it to Lily to ensure her child was, at the very least, happy. Up until that strange meeting, he'd been under the impression that he was being raised by a doting wizarding family—perhaps the Weasley's or Longbottom's. But, a _muggle_ family? And not just a muggle family but _Petunia Evans' family?_

But he kept his face a calm mask and only nodded. "If you say so, Headmaster. Was there anything else you required?"

Dumbledore looked pleased as he steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "Just keep an ear to the ground, my boy. Let me know immediately if you hear anything about Lord Slytherin. The fact that he so casually ignored my letter causes many concerns."

***1047***

Harry Potter dug his small fingers into the dry earth, trying to pry up a patch of dandelions while extremely long roots, which was growing in Petunia's flower bed. For the most part, the bed was immaculate, with neat rows of petunias and violets at the base of two perfectly pruned rose bushes—all Harry's work. It was one of his few chores he enjoyed, though he didn't complain at all. He figured he had to look the part of a muggle-raised wizard, and as far as Sammael Harry knew, muggles never did a very good job at raising magical children.

His homunculus body he'd created that night was a tad too small for his 'age', like Sammael had been when he'd first appeared at Hogwarts 900 years ago. His hair was long, but tied neatly into a tail that reached the base of his neck. His small hands were already growing callouses from his work. And, since Sammael used his own flesh and blood for this body, he had exact replicas of all the scars left over from Sammael's youth at the Dursley's: Lashing marks across his back, brown splotches where he'd been burned, long patches of slightly discolored skin where the flesh, at once pain, had been rubbed or ripped off. In fact, if anything, the scars on Harry's body were worse than Sammael's, due to the intent of the 'other's' magic that night. Yes, Sammael was convinced that Harry looked exactly like Sammael would have if he had never found his way to Hogwarts.

Harry wondered if it was strange to think about his other half as a completely different person.

His musing was interrupted by a shadow falling across his back. "What are you doing outside playing in the dirt, boy" Harry flinched at the harshness of the tone, while silently applauding his own acting skills. The voice hesitated, then continued in a _slightly_ less abrasive voice "It's far too hot for you to be outside."

"I-I need to finish before lunch," Harry said, still looking down at the ground, rather than meeting this new person's gaze. "Aunt Petunia wants it l-looking n-nice for the c-c-company c-coming over…" Harry fiddled with a dandelion head in his hands, looking for all the world like a shy little boy.

The man kneeled next to him. He was wearing wizarding robes. His skin was pale, much like Salazar's; it could at one point have been tan, but long hours inside left it sallow. His hair was long, falling around his face in messy clumps. The man obviously did potions often, his hair had telltale signs of the oily steam most potions produced while simmering. His nose had been broken at some point, giving it a hooked appearance. And his eyes were black, like the shells of beetles. The man pulled out a wand and gave a brief wave. Suddenly, all of the weeds wilted and disappeared, the dirt became moist and the flowers that had begun to wilt straightened up, their faces to the sun.

Harry, remembering he was supposed to act like a muggle-born, opened his eyes wide. "Wow, you can do that too?" he whispered before looking around nervously. "Uncle Vernon doesn't like it when I do tricks like that." The man's eyes narrowed and Harry seemed to shrink back, away from his fierce gaze.

"He doesn't, does he?" the man almost hissed.

"Sorry" Harry yelped, scooting further away, as if on instinct. The man looked surprised for a moment, before putting on a mask that would have made Salazar proud.

"Don't be," said the man. "Have you eaten today?"

"Yes" Harry said quickly, a tad too quickly, even though he had snuck that fruit from the morning's breakfast.

The man scowled. "Come with me," then he stood, his cape swirling impressively. He took three steps, then realized Harry was still on the ground. "Well _Potter?_ " the man spat out. Harry flinched, then backed away from him. The man sighed, whether in annoyance or to release tension, Harry didn't know. But he wasn't about to just blindly follow this random person. For all he knew, this could be one of Tom/Voldemort/the Dark You-Know-What's followers, determined to get him alone and kill him, or use him in some ritual.

"Harry" the man's voice was now both soft and firm. "Let's go."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, making his voice a bit louder, but adding a slightly tremble to his last word. The man seemed to think about his answer for a second. "And how do you know my name?"

"I knew your mother" the man said. "Do you want lunch or not?"

Harry hurriedly stood, the man seemed slightly pleased, before Harry said quickly. "I'm not allowed to eat today, I burned the omelet" then he ran inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. Then he patted himself on the back for such a masterful performance, and padded up the stairs to wash the dirt off his hands.

***1047***

As Sammael walked on the shady sidewalk in the small rural town, he grinned at Harry's antics as he watched the scene unfold. He knew he didn't recognize the man, so he wondered who he might be. Kai sat upon his right shoulder, happily trilling back at the songbirds who called to him from the branches of nearby trees. Besnik was hissing at him to shut up.

" ** _But the locals are so friendly_** ," Kai said cheerful before letting loose an impressive bit of phoenix song, to which the robins and cardinals eagerly replied with their own chorus. " ** _None of the bird back home were so nice_**."

" ** _I don't care_** ," if snakes could growl, Besnik would have. " ** _Shut up_**." Sammael ignored both of them. He was carefully counting the numbers on the houses and businesses, looking for number 326 here on Gates St. It had taken the best part of the morning to sneak into the American Ministry, their guards took their job very seriously, and to find the right archive. In the end, though, it was worth all the work.

Timothy and Carrie Anderson were fourth generation squibs from Selwyn's line. When the original squibs came of age, they had left the UK for America, where their ancestry wasn't known. The last two generations had lived in the muggle world their entire lives, so he supposed Timothy and Carrie had no idea about magic.

Sammael inwardly sighed. He'd been outraged to find out that blood magic had been labeled "Evil", especially when he looked at the number of squibs produced each generation. Squibs were simply wizards and witches who were unable to access their magic. This was considered a medical illness back when Helga had first told him about Squibs. All it took was a simple 'opening' blood ritual to start the flow of magic inside of the Squib. The magic inside of people like this was usually blocked at birth, due to incompetent midwives or stress on the part of the mother during pregnancy. Once you removed the blocks and allowed all of the pent up magic to be released, the former squibs were just like any other witch or wizard.

And yet, blood magic was considered evil, and so squibs were stolen any chances for leading a magical life and condemned to the muggle world, usually after being disowned. It was simply disgraceful.

Sammael let the negative thoughts slid away as he stopped walking. In between a run-down gas station and a dirty, empty lot, sat a two story structure. Water damage was evident on the walls, the roof needed patching. One of the windows had been shattered then simply boarded up. "Oakland Group Home" could be read on the sign just in front of the porch.

" ** _Those poor children_** ," Kai cooed, sadly.

" ** _Hurry_** ," said Besnik. " ** _We must save the heirs from muggle contamination_**."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry for the slow updating. Also, the heirs are OCs, not Artemis Fowl peeps. Love yas!**

Severus paced around his office, fuming. How dare that old fool, claiming Ha—Potter to be fine when, in fact, he was so obviously being abused. The whelp looked half starved, scars decorated his pale skin, he flinched as often as he took a breath. But what was he supposed to do about it? Severus regretfully admitted to himself that he, as someone the boy had never met before, had acted a bit too brash for the boy to have trusted him. What had he been thinking? There had to be a better way to go about this.

Somehow he had to win the boy's trust, so that he could help the child. But what was he supposed to do? Invite the brat out for ice cream? From what he'd seen, Potter would probably solemnly inform him that he wasn't 'allowed to eat sweets' because he had failed to change their automobile's oil, or something like that.

He decided he'd simply have to start becoming a constant in the boy's life. One day at a time.

***1047***

"…and you're certain you want _those_ two?" the woman asked him. It was obvious that she was surprised such a wealthy looking man was interested in Timmy and Carrie Anderson. "I hope you realized that these are what you might call 'troubled children'." Sammael raised an eyebrow at her.

"No," he said stiffly. "These are what I might call 'relatives', I'm sure you know the term."

"They've been here for almost four years now," the woman said uncertainly. "And no one has come to find them, yet."

"Because I didn't know they existed," Sammael said simply. "And now that I do, I am here for the two of them. I believe I followed the proceeds correctly?" Sammael asked, waving his wand over the woman's face. Her expression went slack. She nodded. "Good, now show me the children."

"Right this way," she said distantly as she walked off. All through the house were pathetic looking children, most of them were just sitting around. A few were talking quietly. Fewer still was playing games on the floor. Besnik sat hidden beneath his robes. Kai was disillusioned on his shoulder. She led him up the rickety stairs and down the hall. "In here."

In the room were two beds, a window with a crack stretching from the top to the bottom, a threadbare circular rug, and two children sitting on said rug. The boy, ten years old, had sandy blond hair hanging in loose curls about his head like a halo. His eyes were a clear blue, like running brook water. His skin was neither pale nor tan, yet hat a strange pallor to it that made him seem sickly. He was tall for his age, Sammael was relieved to see, which means he hadn't been starved, though he was still fairly thin and boney.

The girl, seven years old, was petite, but not unhealthily so. Her eyes were huge, and a vivid violet. Her hair was curly, like her brother's but black as midnight. Her skin was the same as the boy's. Sammael smiled at them, coming closer. He could feel large reserves of magic crackling beneath the surface, untouched and unreachable…so far.

"Hello," he said softly. "My name is Sammael."

"Are you here to 'dopt us?" the girl asked.

"Of course he isn't" said the boy.

"And why not?" asked Sammael. "I very much want to adopt you." The girl smiled and nudged her brother on the arm, but the boy didn't smile.

"Why?" he asked sharply.

"Because I have recently discovered that you two and I are distantly related," he said. "And I always take care of my family. Please, pack your things. We are leaving shortly."

***1047***

The man was back again, Harry noticed as he struggled to push the ancient lawn mower over the evil ant hills that had popped up almost overnight on his Dursley's lawn. The angry little bugs were scurrying everywhere, up his legs, down his shoes, biting him. Harry shoved his hair out of his face, halfheartedly day dreaming about offing the muggles and finding an orphanage. It was as he was shaking a particularly vicious ant off his right knee, that he noticed the black eyed man watching him from across the street. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Stalker" he muttered under his breath. Then his foot slipped down into a hole that used to be an ant hill. He gave a startled yelp as he crashed down, skinning his arm on the side of the lawn mower as it kept running. Harry scowled as he watched it roll away. Then it stopped, the motor dying. A firm but gentle hand was helping Harry to his feet. Harry was honestly surprised as he looked up at the strange man who'd been watching him all morning.

"Let me see," the man said as he took hold of Harry's arm. For some reason, Harry just let him. The man's voice gave indication that he was simply used to being obeyed, instantly and without question. The man pulled a small vial from his sleeve, Harry flinched, but the man tightened his grip, pouring the potion over his abrasion. Harry opened his eyes wide, as if with awe, as the cuts healed themselves.

"I can do that too," Harry decided to say. "But it makes me tired."

***1047***

Severus' eyes widened. Potter had mentioned being able to "do things" like Severus had with the pitiful flower bed. But to be able to control ones' magic enough to heal themselves is very complicated, almost unheard of. It _is_ unheard of for a boy so young to perform it. The boy was still admiring his arm as Severus quickly finished trimming the lawn for him.

"Are your relatives around?" he asked the boy.

"Dudley's at his friends' house. Uncle Vernon's at work. And…I think Aunt Tuney is talking with Mrs. Owen next door." Severus nodded. He wanted to simply take the boy with him back to Hogwarts, but somehow, he knew Dumbledore wouldn't approve of these actions. So, instead, he shifted his grip on the boy's arm, taking his hand, and formally shaking it.

"My name is Severus Snape," he told Harry, feeling a little uncertain of himself. Outwardly, he was calm and collected, but on the inside he was scrambling to figure out how the heck he was supposed to get this kid to trust him. The children he taught year after year at Hogwarts didn't trust him!

"I'm Harry," he said, then he paused. "But you already knew that." Severus nodded. "Why have you been watching me?" Severus inwardly winced. He hadn't thought the boy had noticed him.

"I'm a teacher, form a special school," Severus decided to day. "A school that your parents went to as children. I was watching to see if you qualify."

***1047***

Harry wanted to do a happy dance. This man was obviously a professor at Hogwarts. "What subject to you teach?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. The man hesitated.

"Chemistry."

"What's that?"

"…it's like cooking, but not with food." Harry tried to look confused, as he held in his laughter. He remembered the times he'd tried to explain wizarding subjects to Mundane—Muggle—borns. It was always interesting. This man, however, was most likely the Potions Professor.

"Oh," Harry said. "Will you be my teacher?" he asked. Severus Snape nodded, once, stiffly. "So I qualify?"

"Of course," Severus said.

"How is it special?" Harry asked. "Dudley's going to a special school for rich people. And a girl who used to live on the street went away to college—that's a school for old people."

"It's a school for…unique children, with certain qualities that we look for." Harry wanted to raise an eyebrow. Usually, at this point Sammael would have simply told the child that the accidents that happened around them was caused by magic. But this man seemed to be purposefully skirting around the topic altogether.

"And you could tell that I qualify…from watching me mow the lawn?" Harry asked suspiciously.

***1047***

The boy was more observant than Severus had been banking on. But before Severus could figure out how to answer the boy, to calm his suspicions, a shrill voice broke the relative peace of the afternoon. "HARRY POTTER!" Severus would recognize that voice anywhere. Petunia. The horse-faced woman was storming across the lawn, her cheeks flushed with anger. "What do you think you're doing? Talking to this man? Put the lawn mower away then get inside and go to your room!"

Severus forced down the need to strike her as the little boy seemed to shrink down inside himself. With a murmured "Yes, Aunt Petunia" Harry went to go retrieve the mower. Petunia turned on Snape.

"You!" Petunia said. "You're that awful Snape boy Lily was always playing with." Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Harry pause. The boy turned around with, what looked like, hopeful eyes. "I don't want any of _your_ kind here!" Petunia spat as she continued. "If you even _think_ about taking him to the freak school, think again! The little brat hasn't shown any of the freakiness like Lily did!" Severus saw Harry roll his eyes, then understanding seemed to dawn on him as his mouth dropped open. "I won't stand for it." Petunia finished with a firm foot stamp.

"Yes," Severus drawled. "I am here from the 'freak school' for the boy." He raised an eyebrow at Petunia. "But if he hasn't shown any magic," here, Petunia flinched. "I suppose he won't be going. Good day" He saw Harry's shoulder's droop as he began to push the lawn mower away once more.

***1047***

Sammael contemplated about what to do about one Mr. Severus Snape. His family name didn't ring a bell. Perhaps he was a muggle born. But if he truly was the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, there would be some record of him somewhere. But he'd worry about that later, for now, he had his hands full.

He watched as 'Carrie' and 'Timothy' organized their rooms, which were two of the largest in the manor—aside from his own—and directly next door to each other. They didn't have much, something that Sammael planned to remedy soon enough. He noticed with interest that, though the woman at the group home had called them 'Carrie' and 'Timothy', they called each other 'Charis' and 'Mo'.

"Children" he called to them. "When you're done, come down to the foyer. On the door to the left, once there, is my favorite sitting room. I'll meet you there." It took about ten minutes before either child appeared. Charis was first, skipping as she went. In her arms was the rattiest looking teddy bear Sammael had ever seen. "Well, and who is your little guest?" he asked her. She beamed at him, holding out the dying bear by the paws.

"Theo" she said before hugging it to her chest. "He's my friend."

"I'm sure he's a very fine young bear," Sammael said solemnly, making the little girl giggle. "Have a seat, Charis. Tell me, what is your fully name?"

"Charis Agape Anderson" she said proudly. "And Mo's is Timotheus Shor." Sammael nodded once, after he heard this. Acceptable names, except for their last one, of course."

"Would you like to share my last name?" Sammael asked as Mo walked into the room. The boy looked around, his face a frowning mask, then sat next to his sister on the couch across from Sammael.

"What's _your_ full name?" asked Charis Agape. She seemed to enjoy talking more than her brother.

"Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin"

"That's weird," said Charis, but she had a thoughtful look on her face.

"Timotheus Shor Anderson Slytherin" Mo tried out. Then he shrugged. "Meh, I don't care either way." Charis nodded as well, making her Theo do the same. "So, what did you want us in here for?" Timotheus asked, narrowing his eyes, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Oh," Sammael said. "I only wanted to introduce you to my pets." He reached into his sleeve, and pulled out Besnik. The basilisk had wanted to talk to them at the Group home, but soon after Sammael first met the children, one of the matrons had come up, not letting them be alone, much to the serpent's annoyance. The children's eyes widened, but Sammael noted with approval that neither looked scared.

He pulled out his wand and tapped Besnik on the snout. " ** _This is my basilisk, Besnik. If you are ever in danger, he will protect you. He is what you might call my 'familiar'_**." The children watched with wide eyes as Besnik grew to his full size.

" ** _Basilisk_**?" asked Mo. " ** _Don't basilisk's turn people to stone_**?"

" ** _Can we get a familiar_**?" Charis asked at the same time. Sammael grinned, they didn't even seem to notice the change in language.

" ** _Of course you can_** ," said Sammael. "We'll take care of that shortly. Mo is the same age that I was when I got Besnik and Kai. And to answer you, Mo, yes, they can turn people to stone. But they don't usually do that. They like to eat the things they hunt and they can't very well do that if it gets turned into a pile of rocks, now can they?"

"Kai?" asked Charis.

" ** _You haven't introduced the chicken yet_**." Besnik informed Sammael. Mo leapt to his feet.

" ** _Your snake just talked!_** " he cried, pointing.

"Yes," Sammael said disinterestedly. " ** _They tend to do that. But he isn't speaking English, you're speaking their language: parseltongue. I'm telling you right now, children, than many people don't think much of parselmouths, because they are rare and considered evil. So I ask you don't speak in it outside of the home_**."

Charis nodded obediently. But Mo only frowned deeper. " ** _What are you talking about_**?"

"I want you to listen very carefully to what I say next. Don't focus on the words, but on how I say it." Sammael told him. Mo looked doubtful, but slowly nodded anyway. " ** _My family is known for rearing basilisks, it is the only one of two known to history: The Slytherins and the De Fole's."_** Mo's eyes widened, then he looked at the ground a little sheepishly.

"Kai?" Sammael called. The bird appeared in a flash of fire.

" ** _Prima donna_** " Besnik hissed under his breath. Kai hooted indignantly.

" ** _Shut up, or I'll claw out your eyes_**."

" ** _Set a better example_** ," Sammael chided. " ** _There are children present_**."

The children were watching the exchange silently, with wide eyes. Then they almost seemed to shrug to each other, as if they were simply accepting their guardian's strangeness "There is one more thing that you must know," Sammael told the two of them. "I am a wizard," he paused here, ready to answer any questions or disprove any doubts, but the children just looked at him, waiting for him to get to the point. "I can do magic" he clarified. Nothing. They still just sat there, waiting.

" ** _That's hardly the strangest things they've heard today_** ," Kai told him.

" ** _After all, you've a pet Phoenix_** ," Besnik said as Kai squawked at him, angrily. " ** _And a basilisk familiar. What else_** ** _can_** ** _you be?_** " Mo actually nodded here.

"Are we wizards too?" asked Charis.

Sammael smiled kindly at her. She was such a sweet thing. "Actually, my dear, you would be a witch." Mo rolled his eyes. "But right now, you cannot access your magic."

"Why?" that was Mo.

"It's been blocked off. No one really knows why it happens, but sometimes, in wizarding lines, people are born who can't naturally use their magic. So the pathway must be forcefully opened with a charge of outside magic."

"Like when you jump start a car?" Mo asked.

Sammael paused. "What's a car?" Charis' and Mo's eyes grew the widest yet. They could accept that this man was a wizard—just look at him-, and that he had a pet basilisk and phoenix. But how could he not know what a _car_ is? Sammael sighed. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to inform you of something important, since you're both already so _accepting_." Sammael shook his head. Usually when he told children about magic like this, they were skeptical, scared, wary. But these children simply shrugged and were ready to move on. He wondered if there would even be a reaction to the truth. "I was born ten years ago, but I was transported to the past by an unknown ritual, and returned to this time by another ritual invented by my aunt." he said bluntly, then he waited for the impending explosion.

"How far into the past?" Mo asked.

Sammael was utterly gobsmacked. "Nine hundred years." He managed to get out. The children considered this for a moment, then nodded as though it were the only thing that made sense.

"You believe me?" Sammael asked. "Just like that?"

"You don't know what a _car_ is" Charis said by way of explanation. "What was it like, the time travel? Was it like with Doctor Who with a WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH sound and all the colors rushing by and spinning around really fast?" Sammael blinked.

"Who?" he asked slowly. Was there another time traveler he should know about?

"Don't mind her," Mo said. "That guy's not real. But, dude, you need a crash course in 'Present Day'. Well, after you jump start us."

Sammael blinked. Twice. Then three times. "Alright" he simply said, bewildered beyond belief.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry had no trouble escaping from Number 4 Privet Drive at nine o'clock at night, the Dursley's were all fast asleep. And as it was a Saturday night, none of them would be waking up on Sunday tomorrow until around noon, by which time Harry was expected to have breakfast/lunch on the table. To help ensure he wasn't caught not in the house, Harry had slipped a large dose of dreamless sleep into their dinner tonight. Harry grinned to himself as he pulled his hood down over his face. They would be lucky if they woke up around noon, with how much they'd eaten.

Harry had transfigured his old clothes into wizarding robes, including a comfy over cloak that wasn't too warm for summer, with a deep hood that hid his face. His hair was hanging in his face as well, free from its usual ponytail. Harry grimaced, knowing that with his small size, his large eyes, his heart-shaped face and long hair, he looked like a little girl under his long robes. But that was all just as well; he didn't want to get caught.

He stood on the sidewalk, next to the dark road, and held out his fist with his thumb sticking up. Concentrating, he focused a large amount of magic in the tip of his digit, making it glow like he'd cast a _lumos_. Within mere moments, the _Knight's Carriage_ had screeched to a stop. Then Harry had done a double take. He was pleased to see that the old carriage was still in use after all these centuries, but it looked _way_ different. Instead of the powerful six-legged winged horses that used to pull a rickety old carriage large enough to hold twenty passengers, before him sat a groaning, triple-decked bus. The doors creaked open and a young man stepped out.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" a young man greeted him with a wide, toothy smile. "Where to?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He supposed it made sense that the Knight's Carriage would 'upgrade' over the years...but they could have chosen something more classy…a double-decked limo maybe…

"Diagon Ally, please," Harry said, keeping his voice as polite as possible while still exuding authority. "How much is the fare?" Harry would have crossed his fingers and prayed for a low fee if he'd thought it would have gone unnoticed. When his homunculus body was first created and his soul split by the Horcrux ritual, he left himself a few necessities, including a bag of money. That sounded weird "he left himself" some stuff? Sammael had left Harry some stuff. Meh, maybe it'd be less of a headache to think of them as two separate entities.

In the back of his mind, a weary half-asleep Sammael agreed, while commenting about the horrible inflation of the wizarding world.

"Eleven Sickles[1]," the young man answered promptly. "Though if you make it a galleon, you'll get a some cocoa and a bed, for a Galleon and twenty Knuts, you can have a tooth brush and heating bottle as well…though I don't think your trip with be _quite_ that long as to need it."

"Just the regular fare, please," Harry asked drawing out a single galleon. The young man dropped the large gold coin into a pouch, then drew out six silver Sickles and passing them to Harry, before stepping aside an allowing Harry onto the bus. Harry warily climbed up the steep steps, taking in his surroundings. Whereas the Carriage had been very classy and posh, with silken seats and lace, embroidered curtains with complimentary food and wine, the bus was decidedly shabby. The seats were worn and the beds were grungy. Harry held back a gag as he took in the smelly sheets and wondered when was the last time they'd been washed or changed.

He made his way to one of the cleaner seats, away from many of the other passengers, and sat down. He pulled his hood lower around his face, just in case. He wished he had his wand with him, he felt rather vulnerable without it. He considered getting one while he was in the Ally, then dismissed it. From what Sammael had learned in his time around the wizards of Present day, children were not permitted to learn magic until they were eleven, which Harry found absolutely appalling. By the time a child was ten, their core was already settling; it wasn't as pliable anymore. By the time children now a days began to learn, many doors of opportunity were already closed to them.

Harry sat back and closed his eyes with a sigh, there really wasn't anything he could do about it.

Yet.

***1047***

Sammael sighed, massaging his aching neck. His cousins had insisted they go back to America, so that they can "see the sights" and "educate" their "Uncle MaeMae" (Charis started that particular term of endearment). He'd been dragged across several 'states' they'd called them. New York, Chicago, Houston and several others that Sammael couldn't even remember. They'd dragged him to landmarks, explaining the history, as well as to things called "Movies" and to modern swimming holes (pools, Sammael mentally corrected himself). Charis had insisted they go clothes shopping, and then proceeded to try and teach Uncle MaeMae everything he "needed" to know about fashion. Sammael, because of this, was sporting a new haircut. And they'd all received new robes as well as supposedly fashionably muggle clothes. Mo had made him buy dozens of things called "video games" as well as "consoles" and three "Flat screens". This then led to the discovery that magic made electronics go haywire.

After a tearful Charis asked if this meant they couldn't listen to her new radio, Sammael had spent the next several hours figuring out how to power everything with magic rather than electricity.

Right now he was regretting it, because they were watching a strange "movie" called "Frozen" for the third time that night. Charis was singing loudly along with the words, and Mo was trying to look like he wasn't enjoying the songs as well. Sammael wanted to put up muffling charms around him, but didn't want to offend his cousins. Sammael frowned, trying to figure out if they were his cousins or his nephew and niece.

Sammael groaned as he rose from his chair. They'd opted to wait to "jump start" the kids until that night, as he wanted them to be asleep for most of the change. He'd heard all of the magic rushing at once was painful, like internal fire. Also, Charis had brought up adoption while they were out, which lead to a discussion about blood adoption. Mo's eyes had lit up when Sammael described what it entailed, and immediately asked if they could do it. Sammael would be lying if he said the eagerness in Mo's voice hadn't warmed him to the core. So, they'd do that tonight along with the "jump start ritual", right before a heavy dose of sleeping and pain potions. All that change to their magic and bodies would not be pleasant to go through.

Sammael ran his fingers through his hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair could still be considered long, but it was no longer in the traditional braid. Sammael personally thought it looked short, barely brushing the tops of his shoulders, but both children had approved. Sammael let a grin appear on his face, wondering how many adults took their fashion advice from their kids. His hair was much messier when it was short. The stylist had called it 'windswept'. It was shorter in the front, and his wavy hair framed his face as his grew longer in layers towards the back. His hair seemed to be more sleek when it was shorter. According to Mo, he now looked "hardcore" with his "epic scar". And according to Charis Agape, he looked like "Flynn Rider with prettier hair and a smaller nose".

He wasn't really sure what either of them meant.

He'd been talked into buying "ripped skinny jeans" for himself, as well as an assortment of T-shirts with strange sayings, button ups "converse sneakers" and modern jewelry. Though he'd privately sworn that the only way he'd wear any of it was if it was a complete and total emergency.

"IN SUMMER!" Mo and Charis both screamed at the top of their lungs with the singing snowman who had a strange obsession with "all things hot". Sammael was torn between smiling fondly and groaning, putting his fingers in his ears.

"Uncle MaeMae!" Charis shouted. "Where'd you put the popcorn?" Sammael sighed and snapped his fingers. One of this three house elves-which he'd purchased along with the house's other furnishings—appeared before him.

"What can Barg be during for master?" asked the little elf.

"Please get the children more popcorn," Sammael requested. "Refill their drinks while you're at it."

"Yes, Master. Right away!" Barg popped away, reappearing a few moments later in what the kids dubbed as the "movie room" with two large bowls of popcorn. The kids cheered. Barg looked tearfully happy when Charis thanked him with an enthusiastic hug. Sammael shook his head at their antics.

Sammael sighed, making his way to his study. When they were ready for bed, he'd complete the rituals. Until then, he'd work on his personal projects.

He'd done extensive research on what had been happening in the wizarding world—particularly what was going on with Hogwarts—since the 11th century. Along with the whole "We don't teach our kids anything until they're too old to learn new things easily!" thing, he'd found that when they _do_ final start teaching, they teach dumb-downed versions of ….everything! It was appalling! In fact, everything but the Potion's lesion plans seemed to be waaay below the original Hogwarts standard. They used to be the best school in the wizarding world, now they were only the best in the UK.

….and does nobody realize that there is exactly ONE SCHOOL in the ENTIRE UK?

Sammael opened the door to his study, sitting down at his desk. He'd been writing up easy to understand text books for children about the subjects that had most… deteriorated: Transfiguration, (Ancient) History of Magic, Magical Theory, Charms and Defensive Magic (now, for some reason, called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'). He'd already completed and published several works, but not near as many as he'd wanted. As far as he knew, his publishers had only released his first volumes for Transfiguration, Ancient History of Magic, and this first two for Magical Theory.

Sammael sighed contentedly as he picked up his quill.

***1047***

Severus Snape was getting paranoid, he just knew he was. Firstly, he just couldn't get Ha—the Potter boy off his mind. When he'd first mentioned the 'special school', Ha—Potter, had simply lit up. And then when Petunia had said he hadn't shown any signs of 'freakiness' and Severus had replied that meant he wouldn't be going, Har—Potter, had looked so heartbroken.

He'd been racking his brain ever since that afternoon, trying to find a way to make it up to the child. And then he'd confused himself, trying to figure out why it even mattered that he make it up to the boy…

And then he saw Har—Potter—shopping for books in Florish and Blotts. It was late, of course, so maybe he was just tired. But he'd droped by for a visit, to see if he could find a better alternative Potions Textbook for his fourth years in the shipment of newly written books that just came in, when he saw a young man in a fashionable cloak muttering to himself as he ran a finger across the spines on books lined up on a shelf.

He watched for only a moment, but then the boy scratched his head, making the hood fall back momentarily. Severus' eyes widened to comical proportions; there was no mistaking that messy head of hair, nor those fantastic green eyes. He saw the book that Harr—Potter had picked up: it was his own book on the intricacies of Potion making, as well as the instructions for a few potions he himself had created. The boy opened it to the very end, to the passage that held a small amount of information about Severus himself. The boy scanned the page, then snapped the book shut smartly with a smile, before securely replacing the hood back on his head.

Severus watched dumbfounded as the boy took the book up to the counter to purchase it. What was Potter doing in Diagon Ally? Severus tried to tell himself to ignore it, but how could he? The boy didn't know anything about magic, did he? He was obviously surprised when Severus had produced a wand, the potion…or was he? Severus thought back to those two encounters. And he frowned.

Harry hadn't been surprised that he'd been wearing a robe…most children new to the wizarding world asked about his 'funny clothes'. Har—Potter hadn't seemed to think anything of it. Severus had seen the marks of abuse for himself, though, so Potter couldn't have been faking everything. Just his ignorance about magic. Severus had seen through Petunia's eyes as well. Navigating a Muggle's conscious was must different than a witch or wizard, and not something Severus was very practiced in. Though he had noticed that she'd sworn when Har—Potter was an infant to keep knowledge of all things magical away from him. He'd seen abuse to the child. But above all, he'd felt the _hatred_ the foul woman held for her own nephew.

It had taken everything in Severus to turn around and walk away, leaving Harry there at Number Four Privet Drive.

But, back to Harry, why? Why would he hide his knowledge about his world from Severus? Was he afraid that he would get in trouble? It suddenly occurred to Severus…the boy had _wanted_ him to come back. It was so obvious, so common for abuse victims to subconsciously try and trick people into discovering their misfortune without having to say it, even though if asked upright, they'd deny it.

Severus managed a smile as he made his way over to the lad. He'd been out-Slytherined…any by a _Potter_ no less. Harr—Potter was turning around to leave, when he caught sight of Severus. If Snape had doubts about this being the Boy-Who-Lived before, he now had none. Harry's face registered shock, then dread. He turned and bolted out a different door. Severus took off after him as fast as he could without actually running. Severus attempted to cast a leashing spell after the child, but he missed, catching an unsuspecting witch instead, much to his embarrassment and her fury.

***1047***

Harry swore under his breath. How could he be so _stupid_? He should have put on a glamor, or something! For Merlin's sake, what the hell was he thinking? Severus would know Harry had been hiding something. Fear found its way into his stomach…no…what if the Potion's Master assumed that he'd been lying about other things…what if he decided that Harry wasn't being abused after all?

Harry shook himself out of it, it didn't matter. If Severus lost his faith in Harry, that was just one man. He'd wriggle out of it, somehow. After all, he looked like an innocent little kid. Anyone would believe a face like his. He ran, not paying heed to where he was going. Despite what he told himself, he found himself upset over Mr. Snape discovering him here. He'd found the man interesting. And he'd been looking forward to having him for a teacher. The ma had been kind to him, and had claimed to know his birth mother. From the way he'd said it, Harry had assumed his mother and Mr. Snape had been close.

Harry stopped running. No one was chasing him anymore. He wiped his eyes, cursing himself. He was twenty-three for the love of god! Or was he? He found himself thinking he actually was a child again. It was unnerving when he realized what he was doing. It was the most bizarre thing: His mind and soul was adult, his emotions and body was child.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" asked a strange voice huskily. Harry became even more afraid. He slowly turned around, shaking. He had no way to protect himself. The newly formed core in this body could barely manage simple illusion and defense magic. He hadn't even attempted offensive yet. He paled at what he saw. A vampire was standing right behind him, teeth bared like it only was right before they fed.

Normally, Sammael—Harry—wasn't afraid of Vampires. He'd met many who became friendly acquaintances. However, this vampire was skeletal and gaunt. He hadn't fed for a while. His eyes were red, he was very nearly completely out of control. And Harry was very, very small. It was doubtful that if this vampire began to feed on him, that he'd be able to stop himself before killing Harry. If it were almost any other circumstance, Harry—Sammael—would let the Vampire feed from him. But not this way…not now, he'd be sucked dry. Best case scenario, he'd be turned. But that was very doubtful.

Harry couldn't move. It was part of the Vampire's creature magic, he knew, to prevent their prey from escaping. Even still, he was shaking. He was more scared than he'd been in a long time. The Vampire opened its mouth, a terrible gleam in its eye, he gripped Harry's shoulder and lowered his robe, exposing his bare elbow.

***1047***

By the time Severus managed to dodge the hexes being thrown at him by the witch he'd angered, the boy was almost out of sight…and disappearing down Knockturn Alley. "Harry!" Severus called after him, now taking off into a dead run.

He didn't get there a moment too late. The boy found himself cornered in a deserted corner of the Alley, by a starving vampire. A strange sort of fire arose in his gut when he saw the pale little shoulder about to be pierced by the venom-dripping fangs. "CONFRIGO!" Severus belted out the blasting curse, it was overpowered but it did the trick. The Vampire was blasted ten yards away into a far wall. Severus ran for the boy, who was still frozen and trembling in fear. He was horrified to find tears welling up in the child's eyes. He wanted to murder that vampire.

He knelt, bringing the boy into his arms. "Hush child, stop your tears" he said stiffly, though he soothingly stroked the boy's hair with his hand.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry M-Mr. Snape," the boy sobbed. "I-I know I'm not su-supposed t-t-to know about m-magic…b-b-but I-I missed it…" This caught Severus' attention.

"What do you mean?" he asked, holding Potter by the shoulders at arm's length.

"I-I can remember," the boy said, his breaths coming in deep gasps. Severus frowned. "I remember my mum…she blew bubbles with her wand. And there was a man who turned into a dog. I remembered…I remembered them taking me to get ice cream there" the boy pointed off in the general direction of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "I remember that…that night…that the man took me away and gave me to Aunt Petunia…" the boy's dwindled to a whisper.

Severus' heart was racing. It was impossible, but how else did Potter know? Petunia certainly hadn't told him. "And what else, Mr. Potter?"

A haunted look came into the boy's eyes. "Green"

It's amazing how that one word sent chills down Severus' spine.

***1047***

Harry had a stroke of brilliance as his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered the dreams he'd had as a child—they had been many. Some blurry, some vivid. He had also scoured through his Aunt's memories that night he'd made his Homunculus Horcurx and had found a memory of her finding him on her front steps wrapped in nothing but a diaper and a blanket with a letter clutched in his hand. He watched, numb with actual terror—no need to act there—as the vampire was thrown across the street. He let himself be drawn into warm, strong arms, relaxing into the touch, feeling slightly guilty that he was going to, once again, lie to this kind man who truly seemed to care about what happened to Harry, if the frantic pounding of the man's heart against Harry's own ribcage was any indication.

"Hush child, stop your tears" he said stiffly, while carding his fingers through Harry's dark locks in a strangely pleasant gesture.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry M-Mr. Snape," He blubbered out "I-I know I'm not su-supposed t-t-to know about m-magic…b-b-but I-I missed it…" he felt Severus stiffen and wondered if he'd over played it. Severus drew away slightly and looked Harry in the eye. Harry tightened his Occlumency shields, so that if Snape tried to peek inside his mind, all he'd find was confusion and blind terror.

"What do you mean?"

"I-I can remember," Harry said and Severus frowned. He quickly elaborated, describing some of his more pleasant memories/dreams "I remember my mum…she blew bubbles with her wand. And there was a man who turned into a dog. I remembered…I remembered them taking me to get ice cream there" the boy pointed off in the general direction of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "I remember that…that night…that the man took me away and gave me to Aunt Petunia…" the boy's dwindled to a whisper.

"And what else, Mr. Potter?"

"Green" Harry whispered, almost against his will, the horrible nightmare rising up. Something about the look Severus as giving him, torn half way between awe, horror and guilt, made him continue. "A man shouted for her to run" Severus' face went pale "There was a pretty lady, her hair was red. She was singing…but she was crying…" Harry closed his eyes, remembering. "There was green downstairs…mum couldn't sing anymore, so she put me down. There was another man…his eyes were red…he looked like a monster…He was laughing…He spoke to her before he cast the same spell…then he pointed it at me…" Harry unconsciously touched his scar as tears—curse his ten-year-old body!—dripped unbidden down his cheeks. "She didn't have to die…" he whispered. "He said she didn't…but she begged him to…for me…"

***1047***

Severus seemed to have lost use of his voice as the child told his tale. "She didn't have to die…" the boy's voice was a mere whisper, his eyes shut tightly with tears seeping out. "He said she didn't…but she begged him to…for me…" a sob burst from that tiny body. "All my fault…"

Severus shook his head. "No" his voice was hoarse. "No, Harry. Listen to me…your mother loved you. She loved you more than anything. She did it…" he took a steadying breath. "She did it of her own free will…you are _not_ to blame!" Severus hissed out. The boy raised a watery gaze to Severus'.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you…" Harry looked down at his feet. "I won't come back, I promise."

"Don't," Severus said shortly. "There's nothing wrong with you coming. I assume Tom the bartender lets you in each time?" there was a nod from the boy. "I see. If Tom thinks there's nothing wrong with it, than I can't personally see a reason to forbid you. Though, won't your relatives feel your absence?" Severus immediately regretted asking.

"No" the boy was smiling now, even through his tears.

Definitely a Slytherin.

 **I'll do the ritual with the kiddies in the next chapter, thank you all so much for reading this! Please review! I welcome any comments, criticisms, questions or complaints! Does it all make sense so far? Is there anything you want to see in the future? Should Harry Horcrux have a different animagus/patronus from Sammael?**

* * *

[1] According to Rubeus Hagrid, there are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle, meaning there are 493 Knuts to a Galleon.


	6. Chapter 6

**(This is where I introduce Artemis Fowl. I'll say it again, that you don't need to have read the books—though it might help, I'm leaving a bit of stuff out, though nothing crucial—because I'll explain it all briefly here. For those of you that Have read the books, I'm changing the age that Artemis was in Book 1 to 10 years old. So, everything that happened in the first Artemis Fowl book did happen in this universe, but it happened earlier.)**

Severus had lost his mind, he was sure of it. After all, here he was _sneaking a child into Hogwarts_. He held the boy, wrapped in his traveling cloak, as he darted through the halls. He'd taken the boy for supper—the child was much too thin—and there, Har—no, Potter, had fallen asleep on the table. Waving his wand, Severus ensured that the child wouldn't wake up. Then, he'd taken the whelp with him back to Hogwarts. He couldn't find it in him to send the boy back to the Muggles. Even _he_ wasn't that heartless.

The boy snored softly away, his head lolling on Severus' shoulder. Snape thought about what he had learned from the child that night. Obviously he had something of an eidetic memory. He was also much, much more charming than Potter Sr had ever been. A Slytherin if there ever was one. He'd also eaten very fast, though he'd stopped after about half his plate. Severus hadn't liked this, it meant those bloody muggles were starving him.

He reached his quarters, then laid the boy down on his couch. Severus pulled a thick quilt off the back of it, and draped it over him. The boy mumbled, wriggling for a moment, before settling. Severus sighed, before pouring himself some much needed Firewhiskey. He knew he couldn't keep the boy here. Dumbledore would find out, and then it would just be that much worse for Har—for Potter.

But he didn't see any harm in keeping him here tonight.

***1047***

Sammael set Charis down, tucking the sheets up around her little body. He'd do her first. He took out a sharp ceremonial knife. Charis tensed a bit, but steadied herself with a look of resolve in her eyes. Sammael smiled softly at her, reassuringly. She was a Gryffindor if he ever saw one. "Stay still, love" he told her gently as he exposed the top of her breastbone. "This will hurt, just a little."

"Okay," she said softly her beautiful violet eyes were fixed steadily on the knife as he lowered it. He made it as painless as possible, as he carved the rune of power into her pale skin. She whimpered a little, Sammael started humming a wordless tune as he worked, next starting on the rune of health, then energy. The blood was flowing freely, but Sammael didn't wipe any away, he let it flow. Then, as quickly as he could with no regard to his own pain, he carved the same runes into the palm of his right hand.

"Os ex ossibus meis et caro de carne mea , sanguis meus , pater, testem invoco super familiam veneficiis vitae et cordis intrare corpus tuum imple . Redundabit anima tua quasi fluvius violentus , ut Sol et vivificum aeternum ardebit . Sic fiat sempe." He chanted. He felt his magic pool in his hand, then slowly, laboriously enter Charis. Then he moved on to the second half of his task, just as the bonds of her macigal core were being stressed to the max. His blood was mixing with hers, changing her. "Delegit doloris mei , et puer volui , et tibi me accipit . Sanguinis ultro offerebant , adhibe tecum adhuc victima mea suscipiet . Familia et nos servi complecti , initio potest ligare nos"

He took a deep breath and muttered the final words "Sic fiat sempe." So mote it be.

A shudder ran through her, brilliant amethyst sparks trailed up and down her skin, her eyes were wide open and unseeing. The wound on her chest was closing, the runes fading into her skin. He spelled Dreamless Sleep into her, then stayed with her until her eyes fell shut. Then he watched for a few moments more as explosions of magic leaped about the room. He vanished the blood, making a mental note to have the elves change her sheets in the morning, then he turned out the lights and left the room.

"Pleasant dreams, my blessing," Sammael said softly as he closed the door. Mo was standing there, watching him. He'd seen the ritual, and the results.

"All that purple was her magic?" he asked his Uncle. Sammael nodded. "Will mine be that color?"

Sammael ruffled his hair. "Have you ever heard 'the eyes are windows of the soul'?" The boy nodded. "Well, you see, the magic within us is directly intertwined with our souls. So, usually, the color of our eyes give indication as to the color of our aura. However, I have known someone who had brown eyes and brilliant grey aura, and another who was blind, white eyes, who had the strangest orange color…"

"So you think mine will be blue?"

"I've no idea. Mine's yellow." For some reason, this made the boy laugh.

***1047***

Sammael smiled as green sparks lit up the otherwise dark halls. He made his way back to his rooms to sleep the rest of the night away. The rituals had taken a lot out of him. He opened the doors, summoning an elf to ask for his bedtime tea. He sighed, sitting down in his favorite chair. He was getting comfortable when a _rat-a-tat-tat_ was heard at his window. Any lesser man would have sobbed, but Samael simply sighed, rising from his chair and opening the glass pane.

His owl, Elam, dropped two letters on his desk. Both looked official, the first with a silvery ribbon secured by green wax. An unfamiliar crest was pressed into the wax. Sammael picked it up and popped it open with his thumbnail. "Thank you, Elam," he said, stroking the midnight black owl. It crooned before taking off back out the window to hunt. Sammael pulled out the letter from the first envelope, sitting down in his desk chair.

Raising an eyebrow as he read, a smile played on Sammael's lips. So, Lord Malfoy was having a summer ball? Sammael got out his quill, penning a response. Of course he'd attend. It was time he got accustomed to modern pureblood life. He'd have to tutor his kids on proper behavior at such functions, but they were intelligent. He was sure he'd have no problems in that area.

The second letter had no seal, it was from his publisher. Sammael read through that one quickly. He made three hundred galleons from a large book order from Florish and Blotts, a decent amount he supposed. It would have been an enormous amount to make off of books had he been back in the 11th century. However, he wasn't sure how much that really was in present day. Still, he was pleased. Particularly when he found this was primarily because one of his new elementary text books were on the Hogwarts schoolbook list for that following school year.

His eyes widened as he saw his publisher's handwriting spelling out a familiar name: Severus Snape. He grinned.

***1047***

Artemis Fowl the Second was a genius. It's not bragging, it's simply state a fact. After all, he was the first human in the history of the world to successfully capture a faerie, _and_ steal its gold without coming to any harm himself. Even if it was a tad touch-and-go for a little bit, he still came out on top, as Fowls always do.

Perhaps a little explanation is in order.

The Fowl family was the head of an enormous _criminal_ empire. They had more dealings in the underworld than most businesses had in legitimate. They were the most feared (muggle) family in all of Ireland, possible even the entire UK (or even beyond that). They weren't just feared, they were respected, powerful and—above all else—rich.

Aurum est Postas: Gold is Power. That was the family motto. And they lived, ate and breathed it. It was their motive behind everything. That is, until Artemis Fowl the First went missing. He wasn't dead, just missing. And all sorts of people came forward, claiming chunks of the Fowl fortune until it was but a mockery of the treasure store it was before. Artemis Fowl II, a mere 7 year old boy at the time, was furious. He needed that money to find his father.

Then, his mother descended into insanity.

Perhaps it was this that prompted Artemis to take such drastic measures. But, no matter what the reason, he succeeded to kidnapping a faerie. He'd discovered that The People were a technologically advanced society living hidden away beneath the crust of the earth, in hiding from the "Mud People". They only came up to replenish their magic by the light of the full moon. It was when a Lower Elements Police Recon Officer (Or LEPRecon) came up to do just that, that he struck, taking the Elf (Captain Holly Short) back to Fowl Manor. He demanded a ransome of 1 metric ton of gold in exchange for the officer.

They then played right into his hand, using a time stop and a bio bomb. To explain simply, a time stop stops time (really complicated that) in a certain area for a short while, effectively sealing it off from the rest of the world. A biobomb then kills every living animal within this area.

Artemis, being the genius he is, not only learned about all of this before hand, but had also learned how to survive it; this was something that not even the faeries who invented the biobomb had succeeded in doing.

He even managed to convince Captain Short to heal his mother's mind in exchange for half the ransom money. He'd come out on top, just like the Fowl's always did. Everything happened exactly as he'd planned it. That is, until four weeks later when Artemis grew angry at a slow internet signal, and his computer shattered.

At first, he was confused (A rare occurrence in and of itself). He called Butler up, thinking that maybe it was an attempt to harm him, some sort of failed bomb. But then his bodyguard found nothing, it just seemed to have _extremely_ overheated. Artemis then examined it, and he found absolutely no reason for it to have happened.

Three days later, he teleported. He had been sitting on his bed in lotus position, in meditation, when he suddenly found himself to be hungry. Really hungry. His meditation was interrupted with daydreams of the caviar in the kitchen, or the snacks that Butler had prepared the night before and stuck into the fridge. He was startled (read: scared out of his wits) when a loud _crack_ sounded throughout the house (it sounded a bit like a gun shot) and he randomly found himself floating three feet in mid air…in the kitchen. Butler came running, his gun drawn to find his young charge floating there, his legs still crossed, with a shocked almost humorous expression on his face.

Then he fell to the floor in an ungraceful pile.

Thus began his experiments.

He started a list of the strange things he suddenly found himself able to do: telekinesis, teleportation, telepathy, he could even control people to a certain extent. He could heat up and cool down small objects, he could hover briefly in the air and he could summon objects to himself. One of the stranger abilities (talking to snakes) happened very much on accident when a small serpent found its way into the Fowl Gardens. He then experimented with trying to communicated to various other creatures, all with negative results.

So he didn't have the gift of tongues then, like elves, but he could talk to snakes. Artemis, obviously, then went out and bought a black Mamba (much to his bodyguard's frustration), who he named Circe. Circe, he reasoned, could be his extra set of eyes and ears, after all who would suspect a snake?

As far as Artemis could tell, his contact with the faeries had resulted in his own magic constituting within him. But that was all he could guess. Perhaps he was part faerie himself, somewhere far, far back down in his family's history. Criminal mastermind, child prodigy, genius, billionaire, and now _wizard_ ; the world would never know what hit it.

( **A/n sorry it took so long to get this up, I've been traveling. xD Hopefully ya'll like what I've done with it! R &R!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Geez, it's been forever. Thanks for reading what I've got so far, and I hope you like what I write in the future! If you have any ideas, please contact me, and let me know! Also, if you want to know anything about Artemis Fowl, pm me, and I'll explain. xD**

Harry woke up to find himself back in his small bedroom at Privet Drive. However, new comfortors, pillows, window shades and even a few books could be seen. The blankets on his bed were thick, soft and warm. The pillows freshly fluffed. The window shades were a vivid green, and several books were sitting beside him on his night stand. A few wizarding fantasy books for children, one on beginner potion making, and one on magical history.

But then a smell caught his attention. Harry turned to see that at the foot of his bed was a tray of fresh fruit, yogurt, scrambled eggs, juice and milk, oatmeal and even a few sausages.

If Harry had felt bad before about lying to Mr. Snape, now he felt downright criminal. Nevertheless, he thoroughly enjoyed his breakfast, eating every last bite. He was just licking the last bit off his fingers when he started wondering about his relatives, and why they hadn't started throwing a fuss about him sleeping in. Harry scooted off his bed and opened his bedroom door.

Glancing at a clock on the wall in the living room, he found that it was almost ten in the morning. Vernon would have already left for work. Dudley was probably still in bed, though. Petunia could be heard doing things in the kitchen. When Harry walked in, he found that she had a slightly dazed expression on her face. When she saw him, her face was vacant for a moment, before brief recognition flashed across her eyes.

"Oh, you're up," she said in a monotone. "When you're hungry, make yourself a snack. You don't have to do any chores today." Then she turned back around to finish making Dudley's food. Harry blinked. What?

He then made a mental note to send one Severus Snape a very generous, anonymous donation in the near future.

***1047***

Sammael stroked the soft feathers of his phoenix as he waited patiently for Charis and Mo to finish getting ready. Besnik was lounging across his lap in his shrunken form. Today he'd be introducing his kids to Diagon Alley, where he'd pick up books on etiquette and social traditions for the wizarding world. The two of them were slow in waking up today, which was to be expected. After all, the blood adoption ritual, as well as the ritual to restore their magic, physically changed them inside and out.

Charis was the first to appear, clutching her teddy bear to her chest, as she always was. She looked much the same, except her nose wasn't as upturned or large as it had been, but was instead now a dainty aristocratic one. Her cheekbones were slightly more prominent as well. The largest difference, however, was her skin tone. It wasn't as sickly as it had been before, rather taking on the pale, though somewhat olive, tone that was distinctive to the Slytherin line. She yawned, scrunching up her nose and eyes as she did so.

" ** _Good morning, love,_** " Sammael greeted her fondly. Charis smiled at him.

" ** _Good morning, Uncle Maemae,_** _"_ she said happily. " ** _We going soon?_** "

"Soon," Sammael agreed. "We're just waiting for your brother." Charis nodded, skipping over to the couch where her uncle sat. She stroked Besnik's scaly head. Kai looked jealous, but then turned away indignantly.

" ** _When can we start learning magic?_** " a voice called down from above. Mo clattered down the steps while tugging on a jacket. "I don't feel any different, Uncle Mae. Did it work? Can you tell?"

"It worked, little one," Sammael assured him. "Your aura has changed, and your magic now freely flows. While a wand is not allowed to be given to any child under the age of eleven, I will be teaching you wandless magic, along with potion making and runes, as soon as possible." Mo, who had looked slightly crestfallen when told he was too young for a wand, perked back up at the thought of learning other kinds of magic. "Let's go now. We can get breakfast in the Alley. I want to beat the crowds for Gringotts."

****1047****

Artemis Fowl stared across his desk at the glass of water he was currently attempting to freeze with his mind, without moving his hands as he usually did when performing magic. Circe watched him with interest from her heating rock in his bedroom window sill. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, his breathing was somewhat deeper than normal, his brow was furrowed. Then, a spark of dark blue magic dance across the condensation that had collected on the outside of the glass. He was so excited, he nearly broke his consentration, though he stayed steady only through an intense surge of will.

The spark turned into a flow of aura. A crackling noise, the water froze solid, then the glass exploded with a loud shattering noise. Artemis was barely able to duck out of the way in time, to doge the flying shards of glass. After he was certain that it was safe, he slowly stood back up to examine the mess with a cool glance.

Artemis Fowl wasn't your typical emotional preteen. He was stoic, calm and centered. His skin was so pale, he was often teased at his horrid school by the insipid brats he was forced to call "classmates" about being descended from vampires. His hair was raven and slicked back away from his forehead, exposing his rather prominent widows peak. He was tall for a boy his age (10), and slender. His eyes were just as remarkable as the rest of him. They were a deep blue, nearly indigo, that was unique to the Fowl line. They were large, framed by long lashes, and on anyone else they would have been (dare he say it) adorable.

But Artemis Fowl was _not_ 'adorable'. His eyes were cold, calculating. One glance was known to intimidate fully grown men. His school psychologist (and five of her predecessors) stated at several points that his eyes revealed nothing, except that he knew too much. His eyes would flash so darkly at times, they looked black. He was yet to meet anyone (besides his loyal body guard) that could look him in the eye. Unless you counted Captain Holly Short, which Artemis didn't; he'd been wearing reflective lensed sunglasses the entire time he'd been around her.

Butler opened the door of his bedroom. "Artemis?" he asked before looking around, surveying the mess.

"Whereas Faery magic seems to be more of an ingrained instinct, like swimming or walking for humans, mine is more of a force of will—combined with emotions. Faeries use theirs without thinking. I must concentrate and force it out of me. Or if I keep it bottled up, it explodes as soon as I indulge in a strong emotion, rare as it is." Butler listened intently, though not really understanding what his employer was saying.

"Perhaps it's simply because faeries are used to it, Artemis. You'll get the hang of it." Artemis nodded, conceding the point. "You're certainly improving."

"Thank you, Butler. Though I fear I still have a long way to go; the smallest magical attempted quite…drains me." As if to prove his own point, Artemis groaned as he sank down achingly into a padded arm chair next to where Circe was sunning.

" ** _I think your exhaustion is more from forcing the magic, then actually using it,_** " she said. Artemis turned to look at her thoughtfully.

" ** _How else am I to use my magic? Become emotional and volatile?_** " Circe hissed out a laugh, amused. " ** _Faeries simply breath out a command—sometimes not even that—and point their fingers. Their magic simply obeys. Though, from my study I really must stop comparing my magic to faerie magic as it's extremely different. Though…for the life of me…it makes no sense."_**

 ** _"What doesn't, master?"_** Circe asked, circling down her rock, the slithering onto his shoulder to lounge across the back of his neck.

" ** _I assumed that the blast of faerie magic meant to kill me, when it didn't, instead was absorbed into my body. But if that were so, the first time I exhausted myself of magic, it should have stayed gone. Instead, it came back…all on its own. It's as though the magic changed my body, and now it's producing more on its own. Like blood. Moreover, faerie magic is contained within an area of their brain and an organ near their left lung. But when I meditate, I can feel it moving freely about my body. Much like how the Chinese view qi flowing about the chakras."_**

Artemis then became aware of Butler standing there, looking both confused and slightly irritated at not being able to understand the strange hissing noises his charge was making. " ** _Qi?_** " Circe asked.

" ** _What they believe to be the vital life force energy of the Universe, present within every living thing,"_** Artemis explained. Then he lapsed into silence. Perhaps they had been onto something? What if biobomb had triggered some sleeping, hidden, innate ability that, at one point, many people had had. What if the ancient cultures had truly found a way to harness this power? He had to do some more research.

***1047****

Sammael left Gringotts several moneybags heavier, holding onto Charis by the hand, and Mo by the shoulder. The two kids' eyes were as wide as galleons as he led them through the crowded streets to Madame Malkin's as they tried to take everything in at once. They had been so calm about accepting everything when Sammael had simply explained it to them, but now that they were here in the wizarding world, everything had come to a sense of reality. They felt like they were walking in some sort of dream.

For the last several years, they had been penniless orphans being passed around from Foster home to foster home, group home to orphanage, public school to public school. Charis had retreated into herself, barely talking at all, her eyes always vacantly fixed on something nobody but she could see. Mo was constantly getting pulled into fights when he heard the other kids talking about his little sister, making fun of her strangeness. Problem children, they had said. A few people had actually assumed Charis was mentally disabled because she refused to speak in public. Mo had been labeled with everything from ADD, to a variety of Conduct Disorders, to having anxiety, or an antisocial personality disorder.

They were the kids nobody ever wanted to adopt. Just your average joes trying to struggled through life, shouldering the knowledge that they wouldn't ever get anywhere in life while simultaneously trying to succeed in school. Because that's what their parents would have wanted.

And then in less than a day that changed. Sammael, Uncle Mae, swooped in. The adoption process was faster than any Mo had ever heard about. So he naturally assumed that his new uncle had done something illegal (not that he'd minded; anything to get out of there). Now, they lived in a mansion with a loving guardian who very obviously had no idea how to say "no" to kids (and they'd taken advantage of that the first few days, but really, could you blame them?). But what convinced Mo most of all that Sammael was the best kind of guy, was when Charis almost _immediately_ opened up to him. Sure, she still carried that stupid bear around with her everywhere, but she didn't squeeze it like a lifeline anymore. She just carried it by the paw, letting it drag on the ground as she walked along side Uncle Mae, chatting happily like she was a regular little girl.

And then there was _magic._ Not only were they now rich, fed, loved, spoiled rotten and part of a family, but they were part of a MAGICAL family. Uncle Mae was officially the most amazing person Mo had ever met by far, having story after story about what life was in Medieval times. Man, story time was the best.

Uncle Mae led them into a cozy looking shop, where a witch immediately bustled up to them and asked "the Hogwarts set, dears?"

"No," said Mae kindly, with a grin. "Not for another year, thank Merlin. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself after these two abandon me for that rickety old castle." The witch smiled at this, chuckling. "No," he repeated. "Just the regular fitting for the both of them with an extending charm; these two grow like weeds."

"Any specifics or just the standard material?"

"Two each of the standard, but let them pick out material for three formal sets each. Also, Slytherin green Quidditch robes, and three more casual robes of varying colour—just let them pick—with the Slytherin crest embroidered on the chest…" Sammael continued to rattle off his order crisply, and a self-writing quill jotted it down. The witch nodded along as she ran to a nearby shelf and started taking down various bolts of fabric. "Money is not an issue" Mae finished up by saying.

Ages later, they finally made it to the Quidditch store. The clothing had been shrunk down in their bags and placed securely in Mae's pocket. Mo had been so excited that he burst into the store, a wide smile on his face, and almost plowed into another boy who was standing there with his father. Mo stopped just in time, inches away from colliding with him. "Heh, sorry about that." Mo said bashfully.

The boy, who had recoiled when he'd seen Mo charging towards him, now stood up straight. Both of them were painfully aware of the boy's father staring down at the two of them. "It's no problem," the boy said, his voice a cold drawl. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Mo's muggle clothes. Suddenly, Mo felt very out of place.

"Mo, slow down!" a laughing voice called out that the other boy's father evidently recognized. Mae stepped in through the door, still holding on securely to Charis' hand. Theo the bear was walking beside her, a smile on his face. Mo smiled a little at that, Mae must have charmed it or something to keep it from dragging in the dirt.

"Sorry, Mae," Mo said, ducking his head. Uncle Mae simply chuckled at ruffled his hair fondly.

"Go on," Sammael offered, gesturing over at the many displays of superb racing brooms. Mo flashed a smile of thanks as Sammael swung Charis (and Theo) up onto his hip. "Lord Malfoy," he greeted warmly.

"Please, Lord Slytherin" said the man, holding out a hand to shake, "call me Lucius." Sammael shook his hand firmly, a smile still in place. Lucius hesitantly returned the smile.

"Of course," said Sammael cheerfully. "So long as you remember to call me Sammael." Lucius was about to say something when Sammael, apparently not noticing, continued. "Or Steve. Whatever suits you. I'm not sure where that new nickname came from, but the Daily Prophet seems quite fond of it." That surprised a laugh out of Lucius.

"Indeed." Was all he had to say about it. "I was ever so pleased when I received your confirmation for my family's Summer Ball." Sammael nodded. "I trust that Britain is, over all, treating you well?"

"Oh, yes." Said Sammael. "I haven't really been out much, though. For the most part, I've been at home with the kids, but what I've seen is fascinating. Any suggestions for a family trip?"

"Well, there's always Hogsmeade at the foot of Castle Hogwarts. My son, Draco, always enjoys it when I or his godfather take him there." Sammael took the opportunity to smile down at the other boy.

"Does he now?" he mused before extending a hand, which the boy took. "Greeting, Heir Malfoy. As I'm sure you've gathered by now, I am Lord Slytherin. And this, Malfoys, is Charis Agape. You've already met my heir, Timotheus." Charis gave a shy wave, though she hugged Theo more tightly to her, making the enchanted bear wriggle in discomfort.

Draco gave a hesitant nod. "I did meet him briefly, Lord S-Slytherin." The boy stumbled briefly over his last name.

"You may call me Sammael," Sammael offered. He spied out of the corner of his eyes, Mo being assisted by the store worker at getting a Nimbus 1999 down off the shelves. "I look forward to your ball, but I must excuse myself. I promised Timotheus a broom." He nodded over to his child.

"Of course, and I've places to be. Until next time, Sammael."

"Lucius. Draco."

"Come, Draco."

****1047****

"Children, you say?" Severus asked incredulously. "Lord Slytherin was with children?"

"That's what I said," Lucius replied before summoning a house elf to fetch him something. After, he turned back to his friend as they sat down in his study. Severus had come to give Draco his weekly Potion's lesson, but had stopped by Lucius' study to greet his old friend. "He called the boy his heir, and both looked very much like him. Similar builds, tall but thin, pale. The girl had black hair, like his. Though both children had blue eyes, and the boy was blonde."

"Did you catch their names, by any chance. I could glance at the book of souls and see if they're on the list for Hogwarts."

"Charis Agape and Timotheus. The girl looked to be around six or seven. The boy was Draco's age, I'm sure. Though it wasn't said. Curious, isn't it?"

"What is?"  
"Well, when one says 'Slytherin' the first thing that comes to mind isn't 'loving parent'. Though he was undeniably… _tender_ towards the children. The girl seemed to be shy, and cling to him like a leech. I didn't see much interaction between him and the other child, but the look in their eyes said enough. They positively adore him, and the feeling is mutual."

"I look forward to meeting Lord Slytherin," Severus said. "He certainly sounds interesting."

"I steered him towards Hogsmeade, by the way. He wanted advice on where to take his children for a family day." Severus nodded silently, absently wondering about the dangers of taking Har—of taking Potter to Hogsmeade for a day. It was too far away, there was no chance that the boy had managed to get all the way to Scotland before. He was certain the boy would enjoy it.

****1047****

Dumbledore was feeling pleased as he looked down at the Book of Souls. Albeit he was confused. He made a point of scouring over the book at the beginning of every fall and summer. Everytime a magical child was born, be them muggle born or Pureblood, their names were immediately written down.

And yet, here were two new names that had appeared along with the Nott's new born daughter, and various muggle born infants.

The only issue was that these names didn't belong to infants, rather a ten-year-old and a seven-year-old: Timotheus Shor Anderson Slytherin, and Charis Agape Anderson Slytherin. The strangest thing was that the 'Anderson' in both names were fading.

He'd looked up the names as soon as Severus came back from his meeting with Lucius and offhandedly mentioned the names of Lord Slytherin's two children. On one hand, he was worried that the Slytherin line was the only one of the founders that was still going strong. On the other hand, he was pleased to note that Lord Slytherin was not as callous or unfeeling as his relative, Lord Voldemort.

He decided to try one more time to send a letter. This time mentioning that as Headmaster he had to approve all of the children who applied to the school. Perhaps that would elicit a response.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello peoples! So, in case you haven't noticed, I've started a NEW story ( A Sherlock and Harry Potter Xover, lol), so it'd be great if you'd check that out! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this, been traveling all over, but life is finally starting to calm down xD As always, I welcome all comments, criticisms, questions or complaints!**

 **~James**

Harry sat outside in the morning light, leaning against the brick wall of the house, sitting in the dewy grass. He had a perfect view of the sunrise. Severus had visited him last week, bringing him a bundle of wizarding candy (Chocolate Frogs, Jelly Beans, Ice Mice and some kind of pastry) and a book on easy potions and the theory behind it. They'd talked about the book for a while, Snape was clearly pleased to find a student who actually took the art of potion making seriously, but eventually the professor had to leave. Though he'd promised to come back today to take him on a 'special trip'.

(Naturally, miles away in Scotland Sammael was readying his kids for a day out, as well)

So now Harry was waiting, almost vibrating in excitement, for the older man to arrive. As Harry Potter, is overall existence was very boring. Even more so now that Aunt Petunia had stopped making him do chores. Sometimes he did things just to alleviate boredom. He'd taken to walking around out in the small neighborhood, or lazing in the grass in the local park for hours. So the surprise trip was more than welcome.

****1047****

Charis sleepily shoveled food into her mouth as she watched her brother trudge into the dining room, combing his fingers through his mussed hair as he walked. Sammael was at the head of the table reading the morning paper. "Good, I was just about to send up an elf for you," Sammael smiled at Mo as the boy sat down at the table. Barg, the house elf, appeared out of nowhere to set a loaded plate of food before him. "Tomorrow, we'll be going to visit the Malfoys, you remember them, don't you? The man and the boy from the Quidditch store?" Mo nodded, as did Theo, though Charis pretended to ignore him. "It'll be a formal ball, so it might be a bit boring. To make it up to you, though, we're going on a little field trip today." Sammael grinned broadly. "I'm going to take you to a wizarding village."

That got their attention. "There's only magical people there?" asked Mo suspiciously. "A whole town? How does nobody notice?"

"A lot of ancient and powerful magic," Sammael answered cheerfully. "That, and it's surrounded by a rather dreary looking forest, so no muggles are able to get all the way through without getting lost."

"What about airplanes?" asked Charis. "Can people in airplanes see the wizard town?"

Sammael vaguely remembered from his 'present day' lessons the children had given him, that airplanes were muggle boats that flew. "From above," Sammael said. "There is a rather impressive illusion charm that makes it look like nothing more than a vast stretch of forestland." Charis' eyes widened in impressed wonder.

"What's in the town?" asked Mo.

Sammael thought about this for a moment, setting down the newspaper. "Well, I'm not exactly sure to tell the truth," he admitted. "Remember, it's been nine centuries since I last step food in Hogsmeade. In all honestly, I was happily surprised to find that it's even still there. Nine hundred years is a long time for _anything_ to last."

Mo accepted his answer, and set about eating everything on his plate as fast as he could. Sammael watched his kids fondly, before his thoughts strayed to the letter he'd received from Dumbledore, stating that all children applying for Hogwarts had to be approved by the Headmaster. Sammael hadn't heart of this rule before, and so he'd spent the next day reading up on Hogwarts' charter, rules and wizarding law concerning education. That the Headmaster had to approve was a blatant lie, and Sammael responded by letter saying as much.

Rather, the law was that any student 17 or older, _transferring_ had to be approved. Then, there was another saying that any student suspected of committing 'heinous crime' over the age of 15, had to be approved by the school's governors for continued education, and if not approved the wand would be snapped. Essentially, Hogwarts is as it had always been: open to any and all magical children. Of course, there was still the admission fee, but just as it had been back in his day, it was only paid by families that could afford it. Any who made less than what is deemed 'reasonable' or any magical children who were orphaned and penniless were let it for free.

He also found an interesting rule that stated the Headmaster answered to any 'Acting Founder' present at the school. Therefore, Sammael actually had more authority than Dumbledore when it came to how Hogwarts was run. In Sammael's answering letter, he politely reminded Dumbledore of this fact, then asked that the Headmaster not contact him again unless there was a Hogwarts related emergency, or until his children were enrolled (and they would be).

He hadn't received a reply.

****1047****

Severus Snape watched with carefully concealed amusement as Harry gaped at everything that moved in Hogsmeade. Every type of wizard from Pureblood to Muggleborn to creature lived here. There was a pub just for vampires, and an elite hotel just for purebloods. There was even a muggle-themed restaurant, featuring muggle dishes from around the world.

As a precaution, Severus had put a glamor over Harry, making his black hair red and his skin several shades paler. He also covered up the distinctive scar. "Henry" gaped open mouthed at the teen agers flying overhead on brooms. Zonko's Joke shop's windows were brightly lit with merchandise being advertised in the window. But what immediately drew the young boy's gaze was the pet shop in the corner.

"Would you like to go in?" Severus asked, doing his best to make his tone stiff and not fond. But Harry smiled anyway, his whole face lighting up as he bobbed his head up and down with a happy "yes, please!" Severus had taken the lead, striding into the shop. He stood to the side as the boy made a bee line for the snakes in the back. Severus couldn't help but smirk. If only Potter Sr could see the boy, now. A Slytherin of Slytherins with a silver tongue and wit like a two edged sword and a fondness for snakes. Severus mentally congratulated himself on being the first to speak to Harry. No doubt if anyone else had gotten to him first like Minerva or—Merlin forbid—Hagrid, Harry would have been bombarded with anti-Slytherin beliefs.

As it was, Severus felt secure in simply counting Harry among his own. Severus heart nearly stopped beating when he heard the familiar, sinister sound of Parseltongue. He spun around, to see Harry holding a baby, ruby-red cornsnake in the palm of his hand. Severus scowled. _Of course_ , Harry Bloody Potter was a parselmouth. Then he sighed, pushing that thought away with the knowledge that this almost guaranteed the boy a spot in Slytherin House.

"Can I take Sitareh?" Harry asked. "I've got money, I'll buy her." Severus nodded wordlessly. Harry beamed, carrying the baby snake up the the counter. He found it ironic that, while the Dark Lord's familiar was of the most deadly breed of serpents known to man, that the Boy-Who-Lived, his conqueror, would chose a completely harmless snake.

A snake the color of Gryffindor no less.

***1047***

Sammael saw through Harry's mind that he was in the pet store, so he suggested going there to the children. "Can I get a pet snake, Mae?" Mo asked enthusiastically.

"I wanna kitty," said Charis, Theo nodded his head solemnly. Sammael grinned at the two of them. The pet store wasn't far from where they apparated, and so Sammael pointedly ignored the tall, sallow man gaping at them as they walked in. Mo and Charis took off in two separate directions. Besnik, from where he was wrapped around Sammael's shoulders, tasted the air. His head swiveled over to where Harry was paying for a small red cornsnake and several dead pinkie mice under stasis.

" ** _There's the little you_** ," Besnik noted. " ** _Why'd he get_** **that** ** _little runt?_** " Hearing the insult, the tiny nine inch corn snake reared its head and hissed ferociously. Sammael saw Severus pale out of the corner of his eyes at the blatant challenge Harry's new familiar issued at the basilisk.

" ** _One day I'll be big!_** " The tiny snake declared. " ** _And when I am, I'll eat you!_** " Besnik slithered down from where he'd been perched on Sammael, forcibly throwing of Sammael's shrinking charm as he went, until he was twenty feet long. Impressively enough, Sitareh didn't back down. Harry didn't look that nervous, even when the basilisk towered over him, staring straight down.

" ** _You're lucky that we share a master,"_** Besnik said. " ** _Or you'd be eaten for your insolence!"_** Besnik hissed loudly, the scales on his crown hitching up. Severus approached Sammael quickly, bowing meekly.

"I apologize for the boy's familiar," Severus forced out. "If I'd known how disrespectful she was, I wouldn't have allowed him to purchase her."

****1047****

Severus didn't think his poor heart would survive another eight years of dealing with Harry. Not when the little snake he'd picked out suddenly hissed out a challenge to the _basilisk familiar_ of Lord Slytherin himself.

Again, it was stupidly ironic in a way.

He'd never met the man before, but there was no mistaking who he was. His aura was even more powerful than Dumbledore's, and unmistakably grey. The two children matched Lucius' description, and who else would have a bloody basilisk wrapped around their neck like a ugly scarf. Lord Slytherin turned around to face him, and all thoughts flew out of his brain at lightning speed. The strangest thing of all was that Lord Slytherin bore a passing resemblance to the Late James Potter. But then there were marked differences, like his skin tone which was olive and far paler. Also, his eyes which glowed green with power. His hair was black, not brown, and was no where near the rat's nest that James' was. Furthermore, he was taller than James by about two inches, though his slenderness made it seem like more. He moved with fluid grace, whereas James had strutted like the cock he was.

Severus' eyes were drawn the the thin scar the stretched from his left temple, over the bridge of his nose, down his right cheek and ending at the bottom of his jaw. The man's clothes obviously cost more than a year's worth of Severus' wages. The man smiled, and Severus was struck by how kind it made the Slytherin Lord look.

"It's alright," Lord Slytherin said, his voice laughing. "I know you can't understand them, but if you could you'd know there's no need to worry." The basilisk turned to look at his master, and Lord Slytherin hissed something. The sound made the basilisk retreat back over to his master, who reshrunk him, and a shiver work its way down Severus' spine. Harry hissed something to his own snake, and Severus carefully watched Lord Slytherin's reactions. He was surprised when Lord Slytherin…wasn't surprised at all.

"Mae!" the little girl he'd brought with him called. "Can I keep this one?" she asked, holding up a long hair black and white kitten with a black spot on its chin. Lord Slytherin smile indulgently, nodding. Then he looked to the store clerk.

"That will be sixteen sickles," the man said. Lord Slytherin passed him a Galleon as he passed, walking over towards his son who had his hand in a snake cage of what a sign called the Inland Taipan. The boy pulled out a black snake that was only barely larger than Harry's cornsnake. Severus watched as Lord Slytherin said something to the boy, and the boy laughed loudly. Lord Slytherin took the little snake from the boy, then waved him off over towards the supply shelf with a few words and a proud smile. Then the man raised the little snake up to eye level and said something.

A hand yanked gently on Severus' sleeve. Snape looked down at the disguised Harry, who had Sitareh wrapped around his right thumb. "Did you get all of the necessary supplies?" Severus asked him. Harry nodded, looking into the eyes of his little snake.

"Wizard snakes are so cool," Harry said. "Can all wizard animals talk?" Severus looked down sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear Besnik and Sitareh talking? They were being pretty loud." Severus honestly didn't know what to say to that. Potter didn't know about parseltongue? Of course he didn't, raised by Petunia.

"Only certain people can understand snakes, Po—Henry," Severus said. "Lord Slytherin's family being among them."

"Oh, really? It sounded like normal English."

Severus filed away this information. Perhaps that was why Lord Slytherin didn't seem surprised, he hadn't realized "Henry" had been speaking parseltongue. "If you have everything, let us go on." Harry smiled as he nodded, almost to himself. With one glance over his shoulder, Severus led the small boy away. He felt a flit of something unrecognizable in his chest as he realized Lord Slytherin had been watching him with a look akin to amusement on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

Sammael dressed himself and his children like the nobility they were, in the finest robes that Britain had to offer. He'd even braided a thin circlet of platinum into Charis' hair, and draped a heavy silver amulet around Mo's thin neck. Mo wore a midnight blue set, while his sister wore a complimenting dark purple. Sammael himself wore silvery robes with green accents. Mo told him he looked like the elf king "Elrond".

Sammael wasn't aware that the High Elves still interacted with humans.

Besnik was shedding, irritable and messy. So he opted to sulking by himself under Sammael's bed rather than attending the ball with his human. Kai had no desire to accompany them to 'another boring wizard party'. Mo and Charis had been fitting Theo in a miniature robe set that matched Sammael's when the large clock above the mantel struck the time, alerting them that it was time to depart.

"Remember," Sammael told them sternly as he picked up the jar of Floo Powder. "Be on your best behavior, or you'll lose allowance, dessert privileges and screen time for a week. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle MaeMae," Charis said dutifully, though her brother only nodded, looking curiously at the jar in Sammael's hand.

"This is a common method of wizarding transportation," Sammael informed them. "It's called Flooing. You just take a pinch and throw it in the fire, which connects you to the Floo Network, then you shout out the name of the place you wish to go. It's a little tricky the first time, so I'll go first to catch you when you come out." With that, Sammael handed the jar to Mo, only holding a small pinch in his hand. "Go after your sister, Timotheus," Sammael told him. "Malfoy Manor!" The flames roared green and Sammael stepped through.

Moments later, he was joined by Charis, who tripped a bit over the metal grate. Then Mo, who managed to perfectly land on his feet. Sammael smile at them. "Lord Slytherin," a smooth voice floated over to them. Sammael looked up to see Lucius striding over towards them.

"I thought I asked you to call me Sammael?" he smiled at the Malfoy Lord. "How are you, Lucius?" Lucius gave a genial smile and a graceful nod of the head.

"Very well, Sammael, thank you. I trust you and your children are still settling in nicely?" Sammael smiled and agreed that they were. "And what of your wife, will she be attending this evening?" Sammael frowned now.

"I apologize, Lucius," Sammael said with a hesitant smile. "But I never married. Charis and Timotheus are cousins of mine from America, who have recently been transferred into my care." Lucius nodded to show his understanding.

"It is I who should apologize," he said softly. "I shouldn't have assumed. Would you please follow me, this way?" The three Slytherin's followed the Malfoy head, Charis clutching her bear tight to her chest, and Mo holding his sister's hand. They were lead to a large, elaborate ball room decorated for the season with fairy lights and falling snow. Many people were already gathered and mingling. Lucius smiled down at the children. "If you would like, Sammael, there is a small party just for the children down the hall. I could have an elf lead them in that direction, if you would like?"

Sammael grinned. "Oh, that sounds delightful. A grand idea!" he turned to the children who were looking decidedly less enthusiastic. "Children, what say you? It would be a good opportunity to meet your future schoolmates."

Mo hesitated, "Of course," he said, biting down the _sure, whatever_ that had sprung to his lips. Sammael had asked them to behave, which meant, Mo knew, to act like prissy Disney characters. "I'd enjoy meeting some new faces." Charis shrunk a little bit, and stepped closer to her brother, but she nodded as well.

Lucius snapped his fingers, and a house elf, dressed far more poorly than their Barg, appeared. "Dobby, show our guests to Draco's receiving room." But the little elf was staring at Sammael with something like adoration. "Dobby!" Lucius sad a little louder, obviously trying not to cause a scene.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir," the little elf said in awe. Sammael frowned. To Lucius, it looked like he was confused as to why he was being called such a name. But in reality, Sammael was trying to figure out how the heck the little elf knew. "It is an _honor_ , sir. Dobby has long wanted to meet you, Mr. Harry Potter, sir."

"Who?" Sammael asked, hoping his face was blank.

"I'm sorry," Lucius said. "I don't know what's wrong with him. _Dobby, take the children to Draco_." He hissed under his breath.

"Please," Sammael added, not wanting the elf to get in trouble for his understandable shock. Dobby froze at Sammael's manners, but then nodded his head eagerly, ears flapping about and eyes filling with tears.

"Of course, sir," Dobby said happily, now drawing stares from the other people in the room. "Anything for Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" And with that he begged the children follow him, and lead the way out of the room.

"I have no idea…" Lucius tried to explain, but Sammael only smiled.

"It's alright," Sammael said kindly. "Just, pray tell, who is this 'Harry Potter?'" Lucius sighed.

"He's a celebrity for the Light witches and wizards of Britain. I suppose you could call him a symbol of their victory over the Dark in the last wizarding war." Sammael nodded his understanding.

"And I look like him?" Sammael frowned.

Lucius took the opportunity to study the man's, admittedly gorgeous, face. "In passing, but no more. And besides, the Potter heir is but a child. Not even as old as my own son." Sammael smiled.

"How odd, that poor elf's mind must be addled."

"Yes," Lucius sighed. "I've been trying to talk my wife into replacing it, it's been growing more and more useless and clumsy. But she's convinced that it would be cruel to simply free it."

"I could buy it from you," Sammael offered. "I find it a funny little thing. And I already have my own house elves to do the house work." Lucius looked very grateful. All the while, Sammael couldn't help but notice the presence of one Severus Snape across the room, watching their every move.

******1047******

The children were led by the strange little elf to a large playroom, where a table was set up. Enchanted instruments played soft, happy music in the corner. And several other children were standing or sitting bout, talking or playing little games. The one Mo recognized as Draco stood up when they entered.

"At last," Draco gave Mo a smile that seemed a little uncertain. "I know we've already met, but let be reintroduce myself. I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Theo Nott" he pointed at a brunette boy beside him who he had been eating jelly beans with. "This is Blaise Zabini" a tall dark, Italian looking boy "Vince Crabbe and Greg Goyle" he gestured to two rather dumpy boys sitting at the table eating cakes "Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass, Milli Bulstrode and Tracy Davis." Draco vaguely gestured to the girls who were sitting in the corner, quietly talking to themselves.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," said Mo with a bow. "My name is Timotheus Slytherin, and this is my sister, Charis."

"How old are you?" asked one of the girls, Tracy.

"I'm ten, and my sister is seven." Mo answered. "How many of you will be going to Hogwarts next year?"  
"All of us," said the boy named Blaise in a drawl as he shifted through his pile of Berty Box Beans. "Except Astoria. She's a year younger. We'll all be going into Slytherin, obviously."

Mo smiled. "I expect to go there as well. Obviously." That got smiles from several people in the room.

"Would you like to join us?" Draco asked. "We're sorting the beans by color and seeing who gets the bad flavors." Mo smiled and went to go sit down.

"Sure," he said, grinning.

******1047*******

Harry happily read yet another one of the books that Severus had bought him. This one was about Ancient Runes, which Severus had told him he wouldn't be able to take until third year, but still, it was nice to see how much the wizarding world's understanding of Runes had progressed in the 900 year gap Harry was "gone". Surprisingly, it seemed like there weren't really _that many_ advancements. Sure, there were new runes written, and different rules applied, but it was all basically the same, and if anything the new method was worse than the original.

But it was interesting nevertheless.

And if Harry was reveling in the feeling of being cared for like Salazar once did for Sammael, well, so what. He was ten, he had every right.

******1047*******

( **Note: Time skip has occurred)**

Severus never expected to come to care for the Potter boy. And yet, over the past year he found himself looking forward to the weekends, when he'd have the chance to visit the little brat. He found himself buying little somethings for Harry whenever he went shopping for potions ingredients. When one of the foolish first or second years blew up their cauldron, he couldn't help but think how much better Harry could have done.

And he'd been rewarded by watching the young boy grow from an anxious, nervous, abuse victim, into a healthy-looking young man who was confident in himself. But now, the school year was almost over, and it was time to start looking ahead past the summer and into the fall, when the boy he'd come to cherish would be attending Hogwarts.

As a former Death Eater, he would be expected by his associates to treat the boy like garbage. But he couldn't. He _knew_ he couldn't, especially not after learning what Harry's childhood had been like. Severus knew he was probably the only adult in Harry's life that he trusted, and if Severus then turned around and began publicly humiliating him in class, it would destroy him.

It was a thoroughly depressed Severus that found himself in the Malfoy's tea room, during his weekly visit with Lucius. The Malfoy Lord was speaking about Lord Sammael, who had released yet another one of his groundbreaking books on the art of Runes. Sammael Slytherin had authored and published many books this year on topics varying from potion making, warding, magical creatures, bloodlines and rituals.

"…and we've apparently been doing it wrong for years!" Lucius finished up with a dramatic gesture of the head to show just how taken aback he was. "Severus. Severus? Severus, are you even listening to me?"

Severus blinked. "Yes of course, Lucius." Lucius sighed. "What?"

"Oh, don't give me that, Severus," Lucius admonished him. "We are friends, we have been since school. Merlin, you're my son's favored uncle. There's something weighing on you, Severus, for heaven's sake what is it?"

Severus hesitated. On one hand, Lucius actually _was_ his friend. He truly believed in the Dark's ideals, which is why he even risked his and Lily's friendship in the first place, and it is only because of her martyrdom that he converted at all. For her. For her son. Their Harry. But on the other hand, Lucius was loyal to the Dark as well, and Harry was…oh, that's it! "I find myself in a bit of a…situation, old friend," Severus sighed, putting down his tea. "A year ago, Dumbledore informed me that he had been alerted to Dark magic use…at the residence of one Harry Potter." Lucius frowned but said nothing. "And so I went to check the brat," Severus paused and took a breath "I found no evidence of the dark ritual that Dumbledore had apparently been informed took place there, but I found something I consider far worse."

"What?"

"He was being abused, Lucius," Severus said quietly. "He was being starved and beaten and forced to work for his fat, lazy muggle relatives like a house elf. I…I went back the following day. And the next. And now…I visit him every weekend." Lucius groaned, but he understood. He was one of the few who knew of Severus' background. Severus could never leave a child, any child, in the hands of an abusive parent.

"And now you've grown fond of him?" Lucius guessed dryly. "Congratulations. You old bleeding heart." Severus winced.

"But what if," Severus chewed the thought over, then spoke again seeing his friend's curious expression. "Harry has an eidetic memory. He _remembers Dumbledore abandoning him with the muggles_. I'm the only one who shows him kindness, Lucius. What if we train him in our ways? The proper ways. He is a pureblood after all…sort of…He deserves to know his heritage regardless of the actions of…of his f-father." Lucius smiled at him, a true smile.

"Genius, Severus," Lucius told him. "Should our Lord come back, would be able to tell him that not only does he not need to ever worry about Harry Potter fulfilling that prophecy you spoke of that night," Severus winced "but that we have Dumbledore's prized lamb under our influence."

"Dumbledore can't know," Severus said. "that much is clear. It would compromise my own position, possibly get me thrown in Azkaban. And I'd never get to see him." Lucius patted his shoulder.

"What would your students say," Lucius wondered, "if they were to see what an old softy you've become in your old age."

 _"_ _Pungo"_

"OW!"

***1047***

"Careful now, my little one," Sammael gently guided Mo's hand, which was holding a delicate, ivory stirring utensil as they worked to brew a somewhat complex healing potion. "We use this stirring stick because the unicorn ivory is imbued with some of the Light's purest of magicks. However, the adder venom is dark in nature, and combining the two is dangerous if you aren't careful."

"Why d'you do it then, Mae?" Mo asked as he dropped in a sprig of rosemary at his uncle's prompting. "If you add light to dark, wouldn't that just cancel them both out?" Sammael beamed at him, and Mo ducked his head to hide how very pleased he was that he inspired that sort of pride in an adult.

"A very astute question, Timotheus," Sammael commended him. "However, you're thinking a little too, shall we say, black-or-white. What happens, Mo, when you mix the colors red and white?"

"You get pink."

"And yellow and blue?"

"Green?"

"And what happens when you light a candle in a dark room?"

Mo had to think for a second at that one. "That…depends, I guess? If it's a big room and a little candle, then the light doesn't get rid of all the darkness but if it's a little room and a big enough fire then it gets rid of the dark completely."

Sammael nodded encouragingly. "Now, combine the two processes. When you mix colors, there is just as much of each still present in the new hue, but combined to create something greater. When you put darkness against light, or light against darkness then one completely over takes the other, replacing it….unless it doesn't."

Mo frowned, not following.

"Grey magic, my specialty, takes pieces of light and dark and conjoins them to create something which is partly entirely its own and unique to every witch and or wizard, and partially something that is both or either light and or dark. Grey healing uses sacrifice magic, which is decidedly dark. However, Grey offensive magic is almost always emotional, which is light. And yet, the majority of Grey magic is simply _innate_ , which is neither yet both." Seeing Mo's still uncomprehending expression, Sammael chuckled and placed a sealing spell on the now simmering potion.

"Child, the topics of the magical arts are deep and mysterious. Many a sorcerer spends decades trying to unravel it, and few succeed. Don't expect to gain shortcuts or miraculous epiphanies from a single lecture of mine. Go read a book or four." Sammael caressed the boy's cheek. Timotheus scowled, shoving Sammael's hand away.

It was something that confused Sammael. Despite the boy obviously enjoying it when Sammael expressed physical affection, he'd always act as though it embarrassed him. It stung, slightly, but Sammael ignored it and simply playfully ruffled Mo's hair instead. "Why don't you practice with your familiar? The greatest bonds between wizard and animal can lead to a form of astral projection that allows you to see through your familiar's eyes and control their movements."

"I can turn into Pooka?" Mo asked excitedly, hopping down from the stool he'd been perched on. Sammael shook his head negatively.

"What you're thinking of is called an animgaus transformation, which I will not allow you to attempt until I, myself, have mastered it. What you can do with Pooka is more along the lines of possession. It's very useful when you want to spy on somebody." Sammael winked and Mo chuckled. "Where is your sister? It's time for us to work on her runes."

"I think she's still bugging the House Elves," Mo said off handedly. "She's trying to convince them to teach her how to cook."

Sammael raised an eyebrow. "Eh? And, pray tell, how is that working out for her?"

"It's not."

"Heh."

****1047****

Severus apparated under the cloak of a disillusionment charm onto the walkway of Number 4 Privet Drive. His heart felt light as he strolled down the now familiar concrete and unlocked the door with a casual, practiced flick of his wand. He ignored Mr. Dursley's surprised spluttering when the door appeared to open and slam shut of its own accord and paid no heed to the many, many pictures which all featured the less important child of the household. Instead, he climbed up the staircase of the unnervingly immaculate house and down the hallway he went before stopping at the door of the smallest bedroom. It was only then that he showed any form of socially expected manners as he knocked twice on the wood of the door.

There was a clattering sound and the muted patter of bare feet on a carpeted floor just before the door swung open. A joyous cry of "Mister Snape!" was all the warning he had before a boney pair of arms were slung around his middle and the air was forcibly removed from his lungs. "I was just talking to Sitareh about you!" Harry beamed at him. "Where are we going today? Are we going back to the village? Or are we going to the Alley? Or a forest? Or that river you took me to last month or—" Severus silenced the boy with a gentle tap of his wand to Harry's lips. The child grinned ruefully when Severus released the charm.

"You're in desperate need of a hair cut, you ruffian," Severus drawled. "Afterwards, I shall consider dropping by Fortescue's in the Alley. However, we must discuss what you believe you shall need for your first year at Hogwarts, other than the items which shall be listed on the letter you'll be sent in July."

"I don't know what's gonna be on the letters, Mister Snape," Harry scrunched up his nose and Severus refused to think of it as adorable.

"Luckily for you, I do. Now, go put your shoes on Mr. Potter. I'll not have you running around acting like a homeless waif anymore than you already do."

"What's a waif?"

"You, ragamuffin, now shoo."

"Haha, you said muffin."


End file.
